



CopiglitN?. 


U 


COPYRFGHT DEPOSIT. 








The Little Queen 





f-: - 

■■\,- .V Vi •>;.*:'■ 

J \ * * :. *s ‘ i * 

. -,r’' • -S V' r.,^T 

• , I , •■ ■ ' : "i\ ' ♦i 


M 


*» 


m 


• /• 


'-V 


• ^ 

V- ' •■ . ^ 

,> , \ \}. .* ' • 


V 


•* _ 


V 

\ 


e 

> i 



..• •■. ' I .^. . . ■.-:? 




SHE TOOK FROM THE CASKET A CRUCIFIX OF IVORY 


The 

Little Queen 


BY 

EVA MADDEN 

I* 

AUTHOR OF “THE LITTLE CRUSADERS,” “THE ‘l CAN’ 
SCHOOL,” ETC. 



W. A. WILDE COMPANY 

BOSTON AND CHICAGO 



THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS, 


Two Copies Received 

SEP 16 1903 


Copyright Entry 

QvUrU' t 

%USS Ol, XXc. No 

6>fs-s-(:, 


COPY B. 



Copyright, July, rgoj, 

By W. a. Wilde Company. 
All rights reserved. 


T^e; Little Queen. 


TO 

ilHg Hittk iFrienti 
FANNIE BRANDIES 


1 


1 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER I 

Xante Marianne .... 



PAGE 

II 

CHAPTER II 




The Marriage 

• 

• 

. 42 

CHAPTER HI 




How WE CAME TO ENGLAND 

• 

• 

. 65 

CHAPTER IV 

Math 



. 81 

CHAPTER V 




Norfolk and Bolingbroke 

• 

• 

. lOI 

CHAPTER VI 




The Parting at Windsor 

• 


. 120 

CHAPTER VH 

“ Sweet Richard ” . 



. 144 

CHAPTER VHI 




The Second Visit of the Minstrel 

7 

• 

• 

. 159 


8 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER IX 

PAGE 

The Lady de Coucy 169 

CHAPTER X 

At Sunninghill 187 

CHAPTER XI 

The Uprising 194 

CHAPTER XII 

Farewell to England 213 

CHAPTER XIII 

The End 229 


Illustrations 


She took from the casket a crucifix of ivory ” 

Frontispiece 

“ There entered the Queen. . . . With her was the little 
Isabella ” 

“ He had knelt on one knee and kissed her hand ” 

“ At the head of the army rode little Isabella ” 


PAGE 

21 

59 

133 

197 


9 





THE LITTLE QUEEN 

¥ 


CHAPTER I 


TANTE MARIANNE 



lANTE MARIANNE was my great- 


■ aunt. 

She dwelt in Paris, and when I was 
but a small maid I went thither to visit her. 

‘‘ Much honored are we that our aunt doth 
want you,” said my mother on the day when 
she told me of the invitation. Of all our 
kin, Tante Marianne is first in importance. 
All her life hath she been about Court. 
Once, Jacquiline, was she chambermaid to a 
Princess of France. It was in the reign of 
Monsieur the Sixth Charles ; was it not, 
Fran9ois ? ” 

My father nodded. 

He was examining the hilt of his dagger. 


II 


12 THE LITTLE QUEEN 

It was most richly carved, and one he much 
valued. 

“ Yes, Catherine, yes,'' said he, without 
looking up. 

'Tis not clear in my mind, Jacquiline," 
continued my mother, “as to what befell Tante 
Marianne, but I recall that I was told when 
first I entered the family that she had had 
many adventures. And truly is she a grand 
lady, with all her training at Court, and no 
better fortune could befall you than to be 
bidden to visit her; could there, my Fran9ois ? 
And now, my child," — my mother did look 
at me most sternly, — “see to it that you are 
good and humble in all your ways while at the 
grand home of Tante Marianne." 

“Yes, my mother," I made answer, in heed- 
less fashion. 

As she said no more, I ran hastily away to 
find Henri and Louis. They must know at 
once that I was to leave them for Paris. 

Upon the morning of my departure I 
asked my mother if I might pluck a bunch 
of flowers from my garden to present to Tante 
Marianne. 


TANTE MARIANNE 


13 


My mother was at work at her wheel in 
the living room. She looked up with a smile 
and said : — 

‘‘ Yes, my child, most certainly. It is a 
pretty thought, and thy aunt, doubtless, will 
be much pleased. But, Jacquiline, see that 
you take heed in plucking your flowers. 
Choose only those that are fresh, and avoid 
those which do fade most quickly. And, 
Jacquiline — ” 

On talked my mother. 

When she had made an end of her direc- 
tions, I said in my heedless way : — 

‘‘Yes, my mother,” and ran gayly to the 
garden. 

’Twas wonderful — my garden — sweet with 
bloom and glowing with color. Thither fled 
I when wearied by much talking and concern 
over things for which I cared not. It was a 
sweet spot, grown with roses and mignonette, 
and clean-smelling herbs. In its beds grew 
lovely lilies, tall and silver white ; citronelles 
bloomed by its wall ; the forget-me-nots did 
nestle in its grassy borders. 

At night fairies sank to sleep wrapped in 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


the soft leaves of the roses. Old Joanna, our 
nurse, once told me that they did. I thought 
it most hard that my mother would not permit 
me to come at night with a torch to behold them. 

Henri promised me that when he should be 
older he would seek them for me. 

‘‘ But not now, Jacquiline,” he said, “ I am 
fearful of the dark.’’ 

There were many things about the garden 
which I did not understand. I wondered how 
the buds knew when to unfold their leaves into 
flowers. Did the good fairies tell them ? 

It was strange, also, why the blossoms did 
wilt and fall and drop to the earth. Joanna 
said the evil elves did this mischief 

Once I made bold and asked my mother 
concerning the matter. 

‘‘Thou art a dreamer, Jacquiline.” Her 
tones were severe. “ ’Tis best for thee to 
keep hard at work. Pluck up the weeds 
about the flowers, then shall there be no time 
to waste in idle wonderings.” 

“ Yes, my mother,” I answered, a little sul- 
lenly. I had much pride about my beds and 
thought them most free from weeds. 


XANTE MARIANNE 


15 


Perchance Xante Marianne would under- 
stand these matters. I made up my mind 
to ask her. 

I kissed each flower as I placed it in my 
bunch ; I told each bush adieu as I plucked 
its best for Xante Marianne. 

There were roses of red, roses of white ; 
there was mignonette most spicy ; there were 
fleur-de-lys and bouton d’or, king's cup, lilies, 
and, among the roses, the blue forget-me-nots. 

When my bouquet was as beautiful as my 
loveliest flowers could make it, I wrapped wet 
moss about the stems, and, bearing it to the 
living room, I placed it carefully upon the 
bench by the door. I hoped that my mother 
would not make it over according to her 
fancy. 

She, busy at the wheel, did not look up. 

Run now, Jacquiline,” she said, ‘‘run and 
kiss Angelique and make your adieux to your 
brothers. And, my child, bid Marie bring 
thither your bundle, and see you — " 

On talked my mother. 

“ Yes, ma mere," I said, when at last she 
made an end of speaking. 


i6 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


Then off I ran to find my little sister. 

She was rosy and round, our little Angelique. 
Right red were her lips and pink her cheeks. 
Her eyes were clear and brown and her skin 
most white and soft. She gave little gurgles 
of joy when she saw me, and held fast my fin- 
ger with one dimpled hand. 

I kissed her again and again. I lifted her 
in my arms and held her close. 

“Adieu, little Angelique, adieu,’* I said, 
kissing her again as I laid her down. 

Then did I run to the garden where a 
whistle proclaimed my brother Henri. 

As I crossed the grass to meet him I heard 
my mother’s voice in the living room. She 
spoke to my father ; I could not but hear her 
even as I walked. 

“ Fran9ois,” she said, “ see to it that the 
child doth behave as befitteth so small a 
maiden. You are ever too easy upon the 
children. And, Francois, I pray you, com- 
mand the child to take from her bouquet those 
flowers of blue — those forget-me-nots, there 
by the white roses. I cannot leave my wheel. 
Moreover, it will be kinder to permit her to 


XANTE MARIANNE 


17 


arrange her own flowers. I am ever for letting 
people do things their own way. Why is she 
to remove the forget-me-nots r* You surely 
have not forgotten your aunt’s feelings con- 
cerning that flower ? Such things, I know, 
seem most foolish to men, but women are made 
that way, all feeling, you know. Why ? The 
good God only can tell. The memory of 
the past ever upsetteth them. And so, 
Fran9ois — ” 

I heard no more, for at that moment my 
brother Henri, bounding across the grass, 
came calling : — 

“ Adieu, Jacquiline, adieu ! What will you 
bring me from Paris ? ” 

My brothers were younger than I and did 
much at my bidding. I called Louis and gave 
them both directions concerning the care of 
my garden and of a small hound which my 
compere had given me when the summer be- 
fore I had made him a visit. In my concern 
over these matters I forgot the words of my 
mother regarding my bouquet. 

As for my father, he never was given to 
remembering — perchance that my mother was 


i8 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


far from scant with directions. And so it 
chanced that when, with my huge bouquet m 
my very small hands, I stood before my great 
aunt Marianne, there were the forget-me-nots 
nestling among the roses. 

“Thanks, my child, thanks!” cried Tante 
Marianne. 

She took from my hand the flowers. She 
pressed her handsome old face deep down in 
their sweetness. 

“And you plucked them yourself? ” 

She raised her face and smiled most kindly. 

“Thanks, again, little Jacquiline. Such 
flowers as these, good Francois, bring to mind 
the old garden where our cousin Simonette and 
I played as children. How well we loved that 
sweet old garden 1 ” 

My heart warmed to Tante Marianne. I 
felt persuaded that she could answer my ques- 
tions about the flowers. 

I decided to ask her some day after my 
father had returned to our home. 

As she spoke she began to examine the bou- 
quet. 

“ Roses, yes ; ” she added, “ and mignonette. 


TANTE MARIANNE 


19 


yes, ground pepper we were wont to call it. 
And the fleur-de-lys, and lilies, yes ; and pop- 
pies, fading fast, my child ; and — 

Then did she pause, and I knew that my 
Tante Marianne beheld the flowers of blue. 
Her lips did tremble. In her gray eyes came 
a look as if she gazed far into the distance of 
the past. 

Souviegne vous de moy,' — she spoke in a 
whisper, — “ souviegne vous de moy^ remember 
me,*' she said. My father looked most dis- 
turbed. He wore the air of one who would 
gladly be going. 

Pardon, my aunt,” he began, ‘‘ Catherine 
did caution me. I — ” 

“ *Tis I who must crave pardon, good 
Francois,” said Tante Marianne. 

At once did she make inquiries about my 
mother, about Angelique, about my brothers, 
and we heard no more of the flowers. 

On the morrow my father bade us farewell 
and returned to our home, leaving me alone 
with my aunt. 

'Twas very grand at the house of Tante 
Marianne. Her husband had been a man of 


20 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


large estate, and had left her most wealthy. 
There were glasses in the windows and rich 
cushions on the seats. Above the bed of my 
aunt was a gorgeous canopy, and its curtains 
were of the richest cloth of crimson. Where her 
eyes could behold it when first they did open 
was a medallion of our Lord hanging upon the 
wall above the bed. There were carved chairs 
and great chests and a wide, open fireplace. 

Well did I like this splendor. I would 
have spent my days wandering in admiration 
from room to room had not Tante Marianne 
decided otherwise. She explained to me that 
I had come to Paris in part for the training 
that she alone could give me, and that at once 
was I to begin the learning of the art of 
embroidery. 

At this my face did fall dismally. I had 
no mind for the needle. I should like to 
enjoy the fine house, and play always. 

“Nay, nay, little Jacquiline,” said Tante 
Marianne. “ Such idleness would soon tire 
you. Doing nothing is good for no one.” 

Then did she have me place a little stool by 
her side and begin my lessons in embroidery. 


TANTE MARIANNE 


21 


Each morning did this take place, and as 
the days passed I acquired somewhat of skill. 
Then did I begin to enjoy it. 

One day when my lesson was at an end, 
Tante Marianne took from the credence a 
casket most beautiful and splendid. She 
opened its lid and lifted from within a buckle 
of gold set about with stones. 

I cried out in admiration. 

“ Oh, Tante, how lovely ! ” 

“’Twill be thine one day, little Jacqui- 
line,” said Tante Marianne. “ ’Twas given 
me by my mistress, the Princess of France.” 

Then, with great reverence, she took from 
the casket a crucifix of ivory, yellow, and most 
lovingly carved. 

“’Twas the gift of my most gracious lord. 
King Richard of England,” she said. 

She showed me other things contained in 
the casket, but these did best please my taste. 
I was happy that one day they were to be 
my own. 

As the days numbered into weeks, I grew 
more at ease with my aunt. Oft did she smile 
at my questions and pat me upon my cheeks. 


22 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


1 told her about my garden and asked her if 
Joanna spoke truly about the elves. 

I cannot tell thee, little one,” she said ; I 
have ever been told of such people as fairies. 
For myself, I have never beheld one, but there 
are those who do hold that they have.” 

She was most beautiful, my Tante Marianne. 
Much did I love to gaze upon her when, 
arrayed in a gown of fine serge, her hair show- 
ing white beneath the edge of her head-dress, 
she sat at peace with her work. As for her 
face, my father called it a viol whose six strings 
were love and sympathy, joy and grief, hope 
and despair. Its player, he declared, was 
Memory, who ever was sweeping its chords. 

When I had been with Tante Marianne so 
long that I no longer had fear of her, I inquired 
concerning the forget-me-nots. At once her 
face grew sad, as if the string of grief did sound 
its note. 

“’Tis a long story, my Jacquiline.” 

All the better. I liked long stories. 

“ Listen, then,” said Tante Marianne, stitch 
away at thy embroidery, little one, and while 
you work, I will tell you the story of my little 


TANTE MARIANNE 


23 


mistress Isabella of Valois, the babe who be- 
came the Queen of England. To begin at the 
beginning, my child, when your father’s cousin 
Simonette — she is dead now, the saints rest 
her soul — and I were quite young, we went to 
Court to wait upon Madame the Princess of 
France. We had the appointment, my child, 
through our good compere. 

‘Mn those days Monsieur the sixth Charles 
was King of France, and Madame Isabeau of 
Bavaria was Queen. The King dwelt at the 
Louvre, and Madame, with the Princess and 
Dauphin, made her home at St. Pol, a palace 
upon the banks of the Seine. 

The little Isabella was a lovely child. I 
wish, my Jacquiline, that I could describe her 
to you. She had her exceeding beauty from 
her mother. Her skin was clear and very 
white, her eyes brown and most trusting, and 
her hair grew prettily about her forehead. Her 
mother, in those days, was said to be the most 
beautiful woman in the world, and there were 
those who declared that her daughter would 
grow to be even more lovely. From her 
father little Isabella inherited a good heart. 


24 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


She was of temper most mild, of disposition 
right fearless, and she had the gift of loving 
very tenderly. If she possessed a fault, 'twas, 
perchance, that she was somewhat overserious, 
and took too much upon herself the woes of 
others. 

“ Simonette and I were fifteen years of age 
when the little Isabella became the Queen of 
England. She herself was but seven.” 

At this I exclaimed. 

A queen at seven ! Oh, Tante Marianne ! ” 

“ Most truly she was but a babe,” said my 
aunt. “ It came to pass in this fashion. Be- 
fore my day, little one, there had been much 
trouble betwixt England and France. What 
this trouble was I cannot tell thee, Jacquiline; 
I know not myself, but ’twas most grievous, 
and France suffered much at the arms of a 
certain English knight called the Black Prince. 
They tell us he had this name from the color 
of his armor. In the days when I served the 
little Princess at St. Pol, this Black Prince was 
no more. His son, Richard, called of Bor- 
deaux because of the place of his birth, was 
King of England. 


XANTE MARIANNE 


25 


“Now this same Richard had lost his wife 
and most obstinately did refuse to marry any 
but the Princess of France. 

“ There was much talk at St. Pol concerning 
the matter, and oft did we wonder how the 
affair would settle itself. 

“ One day, as I sat quietly at my work, in 
burst Simonette. Red were her cheeks, her 
eyes like stars. 

“ ‘ Marianne ! Marianne ! ’ she cried. ‘ Ma- 
rianne ! Come ! Come ! ’ 

“ She caught my work from my hands and 
gave it a toss. She would take no excuses. 

“ ‘ Come, my girl, come ! There are great 
lords from England. They arrive at this 
moment. Quick ! Come ! Come ! ' 

“ She dragged me into the hall. Holding 
hands, down we ran. 

“ ‘ There ! ’ cried Simonette, stopping sud- 
denly. 

“ She led me to a curtain hanging over a 
doorway which opened into the great audience 
chamber. Quickly she drew back its folds. 

“ ‘ Splendid, Marianne ! Splendid ! * she 
cried. 


26 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


“ I crowded close, I peeped also. 

“ ’Twas a wondrous sight, little Jacquiline. 
Even now doth it rise before mine eyes as if I 
beheld it but yesterday.’' 

“ What saw you, Tante Marianne ? ” I cried. 

“ A splendid room, little one, with windows 
lofty and painted, walls hung with tapestry and 
gleaming with armor and swords, the floor 
newly strewn with rushes and the freshest of 
herbs, carved benches of old black oak ; at one 
end a dais, and seated thereon, beneath a 
canopy of crimson and cloth of gold, upon a 
chair carved most wondrously with the arms 
of France, Madame the Queen, in a gown of 
matchless brocade, the jacket cut square at the 
neck, and trimmed with ermine; about her 
throat a necklace of gems, on her head a lofty 
head-dress of fur and blue brocade with a veil 
of white tissue floating about her shoulders ; 
round about the dais, knights splendid in vel- 
vet and gleaming armor ; ladies in robes of 
one color upon the left side, of another color 
upon the right, all over with the figures of 
birds or beasts in silver and gold, and in head- 
dresses most lofty and draped with veils ; and 


TANTE MARIANNE 


27 


pages in gay tunics and scarlet hose ; a fool in 
yellow and red ; clerks with ink-horns at their 
waists, minstrels in long cloaks and hoods ; and 
before the Queen, upon the dais, the little Prin- 
cess in a robe of blue with a grand sweeping 
train, her brown eyes grave with wonder, one 
baby hand twisting at a piece of her gown. 

“ She was so sweet a child, Jacquiline, that 
we forgot the splendor in gazing upon her. 

“ It is hard to say what makes a person be- 
loved, but I think that with Isabella of Valois 
it was her belief in the goodness of other peo- 
ple. She was so gentle, so kind herself, that 
even in so wicked an age she believed others 
like herself. Then, too, she did possess such 
pretty little grown-up ways, and she used such 
lengthy words and courtly phrases that none 
could resist her. She was ever imitating her 
mother, the Queen, whom she did love most 
tenderly. 

‘‘ And withal, she was only a babe, a little 
soft-skinned, sweet-mouthed babe, one in whom 
innocence lived throughout all the years of her 
life. 

“ While we gazed, there arose the noise of 


28 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


footsteps. Open flew great doors. In came 
the lords of England, and following them their 
trains of knights, pages, and squires. 

‘‘ ‘ See ! See ! ' cried Simonette, jumping up 
and down. ‘ Behold the Earl Marshal of 
England ! See the splendor of his crimson 
velvet ! 'Tis embroidered in stones ; I had it 
of a page that the Earl Marshal was to enter 
first.’ 

‘‘Truly the Earl Marshal was a gorgeous 
figure with his crimson velvet sleeves bordered 
with bands of gold and floating from his shoul- 
ders to the ground, with his high sleeves of 
red and his doublet of the same hue, with his 
belt of gold and his hat adorned with bands 
of jewels, and the arms of Norfolk and of 
England borne so bravely in his hand. 

“ With him came the Earl of Rutland, — so 
said Simonette, — a valiant lord in gray and 
crimson velvet with shoes — the kind they 
call Cracrowes, my child — so long and so 
pointed that they must needs be held in place 
by chains fastened to his knees. Marry, but 
he was splendid ! 

“With them came also the Archbishop of 


XANTE MARIANNE 


29 


Dublin. At once did they proceed to the dais 
and do homage to Madame the Queen. 

“ Then straightway did the Earl Marshal go 
down upon one knee before the little Princess. 

’Twas a pretty picture, Jacquiline, that gal- 
lant lord in all his splendor, there upon his 
knee before that little babe. 

“ ‘ Madame,' he said, ‘ if it please God, you 
shall be our lady and Queen.' 

“ Then, indeed, did the little Isabella surprise 
all who heard, for no one had taught her what 
words to reply. 

‘ Sir,' — her sweet little voice made some- 
what slow work over the words, — ‘ if it please 
God and my lord and father that I be Queen of 
England, I shall be well pleased thereat, for I 
have been told that I shall then be a great lady.' 

‘‘ I can see her now, little Jacquiline, a babe 
in splendid raiment standing before those 
mighty lords. I can see the quiver of her lip, 
the wonder in her eye. 

She was so sweet that I could scarce restrain 
myself behind the curtain. I longed to run 
and clasp her in my arms. Such pretty little 
hands she had, such trusting eyes. 


30 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


“ The last word had but passed her lips when 
the Earl of Rutland turned quickly to the 
Archbishop. 

‘‘ ‘ Most truly, my lord,’ he said, and his 
tones we could hear, ‘ a little flower of royalty ! 
Well pleased am I at her beauty and her grace, 
and methinks, my lord bishop, that we of Eng- 
land shall one day be proud of this baby in whose 
face and from whose ways we may learn much.’ 

“ Then did little Isabella, smiling most 
prettily, lean forward, and with one of those 
hands I so loved, lift the great Earl Marshal 
from his knee, he making pretence that it was 
her strength alone which aided him. And 
then did she lead him across the dais and 
stand with him at the feet of her mother. 

“ So absorbed was I in watching the pretty 
scene that I was startled into a great jump by 
a pluck at my elbow. Turning quickly I 
gazed into a face wrinkled and old, with eyes 
keen and knowing, and veins that rose and 
swelled beneath the yellow skin. 

“ ‘ Marry, but how you frightened me, 
Michelle ! ’ I said, I fear somewhat crossly, 
my child. 


XANTE MARIANNE 


31 


I had for answer a shrug of her shoul- 
ders. 

“ ‘ Marry, but you did,’ I repeated angrily. 

‘ ’Tis not time to think of girls like thee, 
Marianne. Oh, that such wickedness should 
go forward ! And what can an old woman do 
to prevent it? Nothing, nothing, nothing.’ 

‘‘ She wrung her hands. 

‘^^The saints help us! ’ she cried in grievous 
tones. ‘ To send away a babe to a far country! 
’Tis wicked, Marianne, most wicked ! Upon 
my faith ’tis a crime, a cruel sin.’ 

“ Tears made their way down the furrows of 
her cheeks. 

^ ’Tis for the peace of France,’ cried Simon- 
ette, turning suddenly from the curtain. ‘ The 
King of England hath made promises.’ 

Michelle shook her fist. 

“ ‘ Prate not to me of the peace of France ! 
If the King of England makes promises to get 
the babe, how long, pray tell me, is he likely to 
keep them ? And what is to make him but 
war, war, war, always war ? ’Tis most wicked 
to sell a babe even for the peace of France. 
Moreover,’ her voice did sound most myste- 


32 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


rious, ‘ if they give the child a crown, they shall 
bring her naught but woe. Trouble is to be the 
portion of Isabella of Valois. 'Tis written on 
her face and hath been from the beginning.' 
Who knoweth more than old Michelle whose 
arms first held her, whose lips did teach the 
babe her earliest speech ? ’ 

“ ‘ And pray, Michelle,* said Simonette, 
angrily, for she much disliked being dis- 
turbed, ‘ pray, how do you know so much ? * 

“ ‘ *Tis enough that I do know,* answered 
Michelle, in the same mysterious tones, blink- 
ing her eyes and shrugging her shoulders. 
Simonette did answer with a shrug of her 
own. 

‘ Out upon such nonsense ! * she cried. 
‘ Only the good God knoweth what trouble is 
in store for any of us. But come, Marianne, 
we are losing the splendor. Michelle, let her 
be.* 

“ She caught the sleeve of my gown. She 
drew me to the curtain, and we watched the 
great lords conversing most earnestly with 
the Queen. The Earl Marshal kept fast the 
hand of little Isabella. He forgot that she 


TANTE MARIANNE 


33 


was a princess, I think, and rejoiced in the 
trust with which she left her hand in his. 

Michelle did not go away. 

‘‘ She stood behind us and muttered much 
concerning the Princess Isabella. I recall one 
thing which she did say. ’Twas how upon 
that very day Madame the Queen had asked 
her little daughter if she should like to be the 
Queen of England. 

‘‘^And look like you, Madame, when I am 
Queen,' the child had replied, gazing most 
admiringly upon her mother's beauty. 

‘‘ Michelle's talk did grow most tiresome. 
She told us how the little Princess had in- 
herited the shape of her nose from her ancestor 
the Blessed St. Louis, how she was born to 
sorrow, how some one, perchance a croaker as 
tiresome as Michelle, had prophesied all man- 
ner of evil to happen to our Mistress. 

At length she departed, and so, alas, did 
the lords of England, and with their going de- 
parted the Court of St. Pol from the Hall. 
Then did Simonette and I make haste to 
return to our work." 

At the mention of the word work, Xante 


34 the little queen 

Marianne paused. Her eyes sought my 
stitching. 

“ Not that way, little one/' she shook her 
head in disapproval ; “ wait, I will show thee. 
Nay, that is not the proper silk. Run thou to 
the credence and bring thither the thread of 
gold." 

She took the work. She gave me instruc- 
tions. 

When I was well settled and stitching most 
carefully, Tante Marianne continued the story. 

Most anxious was I, Jacquiline, to hear 
somewhat concerning the King of England. I 
asked Simonette to relate to me all she knew 
of him when that evening we sat together in 
the hall. 

‘‘Hs Monsieur the King of England very 
old ? ' 1 asked. 

“ My cousin raised her hands. She frowned 
and shrugged her shoulders. 

‘‘ ‘ Oh, so old, Marianne/ she said ; ‘ he is 
thirty.' 

“Then did she tell me all else that she 
knew, — how report had it that Richard of 
Bordeaux was the most beautiful, the most 


XANTE MARIANNE 


35 


gallant prince in the whole world, of how he 
dwelt in royal splendor with ten thousand folk 
to meat each day in his palace, three hundred 
servants in his kitchen, three hundred gentle- 
men and three hundred knights, many yeomen 
and countless grooms in cloth of silk about his 
Court. For himself he was ever arrayed in 
gorgeous splendor, in robes of velvet embroid- 
ered in goldsmith’s work and garments of fur 
and fine raiment from Italy. He was of a dis- 
position most gentle, with a voice wonderful for 
songs. Now this king, Simonette said, had to 
wife a most lovely lady, whom the people called 
the good Queen Anne. When she died, the 
King was like to lose his wits from exceeding 
great grief. In the course of time, his sorrow 
being somewhat assuaged, the lords of England 
began to press him to marry again. But he, 
loving his poor dead Queen with all his heart, 
did most violently refuse. They pressed him 
again and again. Again and again he refused. 
At length, when they would not cease but did 
clamor even most insistently, he suddenly de- 
clared that he would marry none but the Prin- 
cess of France. 


3 ^ 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


“ ‘ But, your Majesty ! ’ cried the lords, 
‘ the Princess of France is but seven years 
of age/ 

‘“All the better,’ answered the King, ‘for 
that is a fault time can remedy, and, in the 
mean season, I can educate her to my taste.’ 

“ Simonette added that she had heard Ma- 
dame, the Countess of St. Pol, who was cousin 
german to King Richard, say that the lords 
of England liked not the thing over much, 
especially as the marriage was to bring great 
advantage to France. 

“ Upon the Monday following the visit of 
the English lords, Simonette and I were told 
that we were to accompany the little Princess 
to England. 

“We were filled with joy. We caught each 
other about the waist. We danced up and 
down. We cried : — 

“ ‘ Vivat ! Vivat ! ’ 

“ ‘ Shame, shame ! ’ It was the voice of old 
Michelle. Her wrinkled fingers shook them- 
selves before our eyes. 

“ ‘ Consider your parents, giddy ones,’ she 
said. ‘ Rejoice not at leaving your homes. 


TANTE MARIANNE 


37 


By the saints, ye shall be tired enough of your 
England before again your eyes shall behold 
our France/ 

“ By the saints, but Michelle was a croaker ! 

“In a day or two we were told that first 
the little Isabella was to wed the King of 
England by proxy. The ceremony was to 
take place in Paris.” 

“ By proxy, tante,” I interrupted ; “ if 
you please, pray tell me what proxy doth 
mean.” 

Then Tante Marianne did explain that as 
the King of England could not journey to 
Paris, the Earl Marshal stood by the little 
Princess and made answer to the priest in the 
place of the King. Somewhat later they 
performed the real marriage at Calais. 

When she had finished this explanation, she 
began folding up her work. 

“ Now, Jacquiline,” she said, “ I have talked 
enough for one morning. 'Tis a long tale, and 
on the morrow you shall hear more. Now, 
however, I will tell you one thing only about 
the little Isabella. ’Twas my duty to attend 
to the oil in her night-lamp. Upon the even- 


38 THE LITTLE QUEEN 

ing before her marriage to the Earl Marshal I 
was quietly performing this duty. 

‘ Marianne, good Marianne ! ’ 

‘‘ ^ Yes, Madame.’ 

“ I made haste to the bed. I drew back its 
crimson curtains. 

Within lay the little Princess, her big 
brown eyes full of question, her cheek propped 
up in her hand. 

Marianne,’ — oh, how sweet was her voice, 
Jacquiline, — ‘I would ask thee a question. 
Dost think, Marianne, that I shall make 
happy the King of England ? ’ 

“ So astonished was I that well-nigh did 
I drop my vessel of oil. For my part, I 
thought it much more important to consider 
whether the King of England was likely to 
make happy this child. 

“‘You must know, Marianne,’ the little 
voice was very gentle, ‘my lord the King of 
England had to wife a right lovely lady, the 
good Queen Anne. Hast heard of her ? The 
Earl Marshal hath told me much of her 
goodness.’ 

“‘Yes, Madame,’ I made reply. 


TANTE MARIANNE 


39 


‘^The little Princess half rose in her bed. 
She frowned in her earnestness until her little 
forehead became quite grave. 

^ What I would ask thee, Marianne, is this. 
Dost think that a little babe such as I can make 
happy a mighty king ? ' 

Such sweetness caused my heart to swell 
with a sudden quick throb of love. 

“ ‘ Madame/ I cried, ‘ Madame, you are the 
joy of all the Court of France; surely you 
shall make happy all who know you, even the 
King of great England.’ 

‘ Ah, Marianne,’ she held out her hand 
toward my lips. She blushed quite rosy. 
‘ ’Tis most serious, Marianne,’ she said. ‘ ’Tis 
a right grave thing to be a wife. Marianne, 
more do I think of that than of being Queen. 
I pray to the good saints that I may not be 
aught but a most loving and faithful spouse.’ 

I kissed then her fingers ; but, Jacquiline, 
when at last she lay fast asleep, I slipped within 
the arras and did homage with my loving lips 
to the round curve of her cheek. 

‘‘ ’Twas a bold thing to do ; my mistress was 
a princess. It might have cost my going to 


40 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


England; but I did it, Jacquiline, because of 
her sweetness/’ 

Tante Marianne suddenly changed her 
tone. 

“Dost know, Jacquiline, my child, why all 
the Court so loved little Isabella ? I will tell 
thee. ’Twas because she had no thought of 
herself, but was ever loving other people. 
Never in all her little life did I hear a self- 
ish word pass her lips. She was altogether 
gentle.” 

Tante Marianne gave me a look which said, 
“ Be thou the same, Jacquiline.” 

I had it upon my lips to answer without 
heed, “Yes, ma tante,” as at home I ever 
replied, “Yes, ma mere.” 

To my surprise I had not the courage. A 
look on the face of Tante Marianne did stop 
me. When I gazed into her great, kind eyes, 
a quick loosening began at the strings of my 
heart. On a sudden I felt right humble and 
shy. 

To my own surprise I did say right meekly, 
“ I will try to be like little Isabella, dear 
tante.” 


TANTE MARIANNE 


41 


Then I found myself in the arms of my 
aunt, her lips on my brow. 

‘‘Thou art a sweet child, little Jacquiline, 
but too much wrapped up in thyself.” 

Then did she put me down. 

“ Bring hither the Missal, Jacquiline,” she 
said. “ I shall teach you a lesson.” 

I heard no more of the story that morning. 

It was all most interesting. 

I felt that right well should I have liked to 
behold the little Princess, that it would have 
been most joyous to have gazed upon the 
splendid Court. But, interesting as it all was, 
I had not yet learned why my aunt grew sad 
at the sight of forget-me-nots. 


CHAPTER II 


THE MARRIAGE 

O N the following morning Tante Mari- 
anne told me to array myself in a new 
robe she had had fashioned for me. 

I joyfully did her bidding. 

It was a most lovely gown of the finest 
serge, with puffs of white in the neck and at 
the sleeves. The color was a beautiful red, 
deep as the roses of my garden. Adorned 
also in a cap of Parisian make I presented 
myself before her. 

Tante Marianne surveyed me from head to 
foot. 

“ Now, indeed, Jacquiline, do you please me. 
Your good mother doth dress you as befitteth 
the country. I have made of you a little Pari- 
sienne. I have plans for your future, my child. 
Perchance, if you are very good and practise 
pretty ways, you, too, may go to Court as once 
did your Tante Marianne.” 


42 


THE MARRIAGE 


43 


I made no reply, but I smiled at the thought. 

“ But now, my child,” continued Tante 
Marianne, fetch thither your work and I 
shall tell you more of the Little Queen.” 

I wished Tante Marianne would tell about 
the forget-me-nots. I could not see what the 
Little Queen had to do with my bouquet. 

I seated myself at my work and Tante 
Marianne at once began : — 

“ In those days, Jacquiline, the Court was 
very happy. The good King was free from 
the sad frenzies into which later he was ever to 
fall. Madame the Queen was as yet a good 
woman. Both King and Queen were most 
proud of the beautiful little Princess, and 
France wondered much that they would con- 
sent to so strange a marriage. 

“The marriage by proxy, Jacquiline, took 
place in Paris. ’Twas a gorgeous sight to be- 
hold ; the lofty church, the gallant knights, the 
lovely ladies, the King, the Queen in the 
splendor of velvets and gems. 

“ The Earl Marshal stood for the King. 
His name, my child, was Thomas Mowbray 
and he was Earl of Norfolk. I tell you this 


44 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


because as we hear more of the Little Queen, 
you shall meet him again. 

“Upon the day of the wedding his raiment 
was of blue velvet and he did wear most 
pointed shoes. About his throat was a collar 
gleaming with gems.” 

“ What wore the Little Queen, tante ? ” I 
asked. “ Pray tell me.” 

My aunfs face glowed with pleasant 
memories. 

“I would that you had seen her, Jacquiline. 
Faith, my child, but she was lovely ! Her 
robe was of the cut of the Queen’s and was 
made of a brocade of white and silver. But 
’tis impossible to tell you how sweet and baby- 
like she looked for all her grown-up airs. 
There was not a dry eye in the church, Jacqui- 
line, yet our lips were ripe with praises of her 
beauty and her grace. 

“ From the day of her marriage the little 
Princess put on the state of a Queen, not 
proudly, Jacquiline, but as one who learneth a 
lesson. She would watch Madame her mother 
most earnestly, and then practise her ways, her 
movements, her words. She would walk to 


THE MARRIAGE 


45 


and frOj her head well up in the air, her train 
sweeping the floor. It was well-nigh impossi- 
ble to do any work for watching her. We 
would gather in groups behind some curtain 
and hearken to her speeches as she conversed 
with the King of England, who ofttimes was a 
bench, sometimes a carved beaufit, or perchance 
only the air.” 

I could not but interrupt my aunt. 

“Why, tantel” I cried, “do princesses 
play that way ? ’Tis but as Henri and Louis 
and I do play.” 

My aunt smiled. 

“ Therein lay what so did please us, little 
one. Our Isabella was a princess and yet as 
simple, as sweet as a little maid of low estate. 
She took great interest in her wardrobe also, 
Jacquiline. The great marriage chests, so 
carved and so beautiful, were brought to the 
Court. Day by day we were filling them.” 

“ And her robes — were they beautiful, Tante 
Marianne?” I asked. “Wilt tell me of some?” 

My aunt smiled. 

“The one, Jacquiline, which most we ad- 
mired, was a robe and mantle of red velvet, 


46 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


embossed with birds of goldsmith’s work 
perched upon branches of emeralds and pearls. 
It was trimmed with miniver and had a lining 
of ermine in the mantle. I remember the 
little Princess looking very grave when she 
saw it. She put her head on one side and 
studied it most earnestly. 

“ ‘ Marianne/ she asked, ^ dost think my 
lord will like it? I have been told that he 
hath a great love of splendor.’ 

‘‘ ‘ Most certainly, Madame,’ I made answer. 

‘‘ ‘ And this one, Simonette,’ and she turned 
to my cousin, ‘ this murrey mezerleau velvet. 
Dost think my lord the King will like these 
roses embroidered in pearls ? ’ 

“ She was so serious and treated it as so 
grave a concern that I had much ado to keep 
my face. 

“ Simonette was persuaded that his Gracious 
Majesty would adore it. 

“ ‘ And dost like my chamber curtains, 
Marianne ? ’ 

“ They were of red and white satin adorned 
with figures of vintages and shepherdesses. 
Their owner studied them from every side. 


THE MARRIAGE 


47 


‘‘ ‘ ’Tis most important to please one’s 
husband/ said little Isabella.” 

I trembled when Xante Marianne spoke of 
embroidery ; I had made a mistake most griev- 
ous, and I had hoped to right it before my 
aunt should make the discovery. But too 
studiously did I keep my eyes on my work. 

Xante Marianne suspected such industry. 

“What art thou doing, Jacquiline?” said 
she, very suddenly. “ Show me thy work.” 

I gave it to her most reluctantly. She 
shook her head. Then did she pause in the 
story to correct my error and give me much 
instruction concerning my stitches. 

“Have a care, little one,” she said, “ever 
aim for perfection.” 

At last I was stitching away properly. Xante 
Marianne then resumed the story. 

“Now, Jacquiline,” she said, “ I have told 
you what we young things were doing. We 
were children and saw nothing but splendor 
in the adventure. There were others, how- 
ever, who thought differently. When I 
visited my home to say farewell, my father 
told me that report had it that the marriage 


48 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


was most distasteful in England, and that 
already there had arisen strife between Richard 
and his lords. Nothing, however, occurred 
to disturb our thoughts in the palace. Each 
day passed as had the one before gone its way. 

One day, however, came a change. 

“ The Count St. Pol, who had been sent to 
England, returned to the palace. At once 
were we told that we were to meet the King 
at Calais. 

The announcement spread through the 
palace. 

“ ‘ And, Marianne,' cried Simonette, ' they 
say that a truce of thirty or forty years is to 
be arranged between England and France.' 

‘^At that my heart did rejoice greatly, for 
truly our poor blood-stained land craved peace 
and rest. 

“’Twas a bright morning, little one, which 
beheld us starting forth upon our journey. 
Marry, my child, but I would that I could 
make you see the splendor of that procession ! 
The day was clear, the air was fresh. Along 
the road bloomed flowers, flashing the last of 
summer's colors in the very face of the frost. 


THE MARRIAGE 


49 


“ Gayly we jaunced, over bridges, past cities, 
through villages, a gallant, merry train. And 
our banners did float, and the breeze caught 
them and curled them and sailed them high 
above our heads. And the hoofs of our 
horses rang merry clatter on the road. And 
there were in the train Monsieur the King, 
and Madame Queen Isabeau, and the Duke 
of Berri, the Duke of Burgundy, the Duke of 
Bourbon, our Lady de Coucy, four hundred 
knights, many ladies, and a great concourse of 
squires. 

‘‘Marry, Jacquiline, but 'twas a gallant sight! 

“ Then gathered in crowds the people of 
the hamlets. They kissed their hands. They 
cried, ‘ Live, our Isabella I ' 

“ Most jocund was the day. 

“As we marched high rose our spirits. 
Was not France to have peace, France, that 
for years had known no rest ? 

“ Were not the fields again to bear, and 
were not the harvests to ripen in the sun ? 

“ Peace ! Peace 1 It rang from the hoofs as 
they struck the stone 1 Peace! Peace! Peace! 

“ ‘ Adieu ! Adieu ! Madame, adieu ! ' 


50 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


called the people. The Little Queen, looking 
forth from her litter, waved her hand and 
smiled most prettily. 

“As for me, I was thinking upon the King 
of England.” 

“ But, tante — ” 

“Yes, my child.” 

“ Did not you and my cousin Simonette 
grieve at leaving your home ? ” 

I grew grave at the very thought of so part- 
ing from my mother and father, my brothers 
and Angelique. 

Tante Marianne shook her head. 

“ The Court, little one, had long been my 
home. My mother, Jacquiline, was already 
with the saints in Paradise. My father had 
a new wife and I was better away. As for 
Simonette, poor child, she was from babyhood 
an orphan. But to return to our march. 

“ ‘ Simonette,' I asked my cousin, ‘ dost 
think that the King of England will resemble 
his portrait ? ' 

“‘’Twill be most fortunate if he does not,’ 
answered old Michelle, who rode with us as 
far as Calais. ‘ ’Tis a face for women not for 


THE MARRIAGE 


51 


war. Richard of Bordeaux may be the son of 
the Black Prince, — though there are they who 
declare that he was but a substitute, a priest’s 
child, slipped into the cradle for the real 
prince who died, — but he looks not like his 
sire. Once did I behold the Black Prince 
when I was a child, and a most brave and gal- 
lant prince did I see, one every inch a king — 
not so with his son. Pray the good God, my 
children, for the Little Queen. She will need 
it! She will need it I Helas ! Helas ! ’ 

‘‘ The old woman had croaked so much be- 
fore we departed from the palace and set such 
rumors afloat that our Lady de Coucy had 
commanded her to silence. 

‘‘ Of that Simonette did now remind her. 

‘‘ She hushed most unwillingly and kept up 
a noisy muttering until we reached a place 
known as St. Omar. 

“ There we paused. Why, we knew not, 
until Simonette questioned a little English 
page who stood beside a tree, holding in his 
hand a pretty red cap. 

“ ‘ ’Tis because of the Duke of Gloucester,’ 
he said. 


52 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


“ ‘ And pray who may he be ? * asked 
Simonette. 

“ ‘ The Duke of Gloucester ? Oh, he is the 
uncle of our lord the King. He was Regent, 
and ruled for the King, until the latter one day 
rushed into the Council Chamber and declared 
himself the master. And now,' continued the 
page, ‘ the Duke of Gloucester refuseth his 
consent to the marriage, and demands a large 
sum of gold to win it. He objecteth to the 
truce with France.' 

^ 'Tis most stupid ! ' cried Simonette. 
‘ What craves the mighty lord ? 'Tis like 
the dulness of the English.' 

‘‘ At that the page did flush most angrily. 

‘‘ ‘ 'Tis better to be dull than false,' he cried. 

‘‘‘It is, indeed,' I said right pleasantly. 

“ The page was most surprised ; as for 
Simonette, she laughed. 

“ ‘ Continue, gentle page,' I said, for I would 
hear the rest. ‘ Pray tell us thy news.' 

“ Then did he declare how report had it that 
because the King had promised to renounce his 
claim to the throne of France, the Duke of 
Gloucester refused sanction to the marriage. 


THE MARRIAGE 


53 


‘‘ ‘ Ah, lackaday ! ’ cried Simonette, ^ then in- 
deed must we wait here at St. Omar, and not 
go forward to Calais.’ 

’Twas not for long, however. Before 
many hours did pass we were jauncing most 
gayly toward Calais. 

‘‘ ‘ The Duke of Gloucester hath yielded to 
the King,’ reported Simonette, her face all 
smiles, ^ we are to meet at Calais the King of 
England.’ 

On the morrow we beheld him. 

At ten of the clock on the bright morning 
of October 27, the King of England left his 
lodgings as did Monsieur Charles of France. 
On foot did they proceed to a place made 
ready for the meeting. 

“ Behind each king marched four hundred 
knights. The sun gleamed on eight hundred 
swords. 

‘‘ By our Lady, little one, ’twas a dazzling 
sight ! Simonette and I beheld it from a little 
hill, and our feet stirred and our eyes grew 
bright when we heard the tramp of the feet and 
beheld the splendor of the knights. 

“ Monsieur our King was supported on each 


54 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


side by a splendid English lord. The face of 
one I liked full well. 

“ ‘ ’Tis old John of Gaunt, the Duke of 
Lancaster,’ said the little page, joining our 
group. 

“ ‘ Look, Marianne ! Look, Simonette ! ’ 
he called suddenly. ^ Behold our King ! Be- 
hold Richard of Bordeaux ! ’ 

“He walked between the Duke of Berri 
and the Duke of Burgundy. 

“ I know, Jacquiline, ’tis said that he much 
misgoverned England, that he did much wrong, 
but, truly, when I beheld that gentle face, my 
heart became his own forever. I can see him 
now — for beauty he had no rival — a slender 
figure, a gentle face, hair golden as the heart 
of a rose ; his splendid robe of orange red, all 
over with golden stags surrounded by broom 
rods, wrought in stones and worn over blue, 
bordered in white and gold ; on his breast his 
badge of the white hart, his shoes much 
pointed and fastened to his knees with chains 
of gold and silver. He was gentle, not gal- 
lant ; he was made for love, not war.” 

“ Tante Marianne.” 


THE MARRIAGE 


55 


“ Yes, my child.” 

“ What of Monsieur our King of France, I 
pray you ? What wore he ? ” I asked. I was 
a little French maid and I had no love of the 
English. Had they not ravaged our land, and 
had they not burned the Maid of Orleans as 
a witch ? 'Twas most unseemly to my loyal 
little mind to tell so much of the splendor of 
the English. 

“The King of France, when contrasted with 
him of England, little one, was but ill accoutred. 
I recall that he wore a close black velvet jacket 
hanging loosely over his sloping shoulders, a 
black doublet, and a coat worked with fleur-de- 
lys and trimmed with ermine. His hair was 
black and fell to his waist.” 

“ I like best the apparel of Monsieur our 
King,” I said, most stoutly nodding my head, 
and pausing in my work. 

Tante Marianne laughed. 

“ Thou art a true little maid of France, 
Jacquiline,” she said. Then she patted my 
cheek. 

“ The two kings, my child,” she continued, 
“ advanced between the knights. How the 


56 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


scene comes back to me for the telling ! I 
must relate to you, my child, a strange thing. 
'Twas said that these knights all fell upon their 
knees and wept at once in pure joy because the 
enmity between England and France was for- 
ever ended.” 

I laughed most derisively. 

“ Tante Marianne,” I said, “did you see 
them ? ” 

My aunt shook her head. 

“ No, my child,” she admitted reluctantly, 
“ my position on the hill did not permit me to 
be certain.” 

“Then I believe it not!” I cried. “How 
could eight hundred knights all weep at once ? 
And over something gay, not sad ? I believe 
it not.” 

“ Peace, peace, little one,” said my aunt, 
indulgently. “ ’Tis not wise to believe every- 
thing.” 

“What more saw you, Tante Marianne ? ” I 
asked, when my heat had somewhat cooled. 

“ Little more, my child, for the King of 
France, taking Richard by the hand, led him 
most courteously to his tent. Now what hap- 


THE MARRIAGE 


57 


pened within I saw not. I can only tell you 
what was reported about the camp. 

“ The tent itself was very fine and most 
bravely adorned. Therein the Kings talked 
together. Spices and wines were passed, the 
Duke of Berri serving the King of France 
with the comfit box and the Duke of Burgundy 
with the wine, while the Dukes of Lancaster 
and Gloucester did likewise to the King of 
England. Then followed the feast all set forth 
upon splendid tables, and while they did eat 
there was much merrymaking and jesting. 

“ The Duke of Burgundy did say to the 
King : — 

“ ‘ My lord of England, you are right to 
make good cheer, for you have had all your 
wishes gratified. You have a wife, or shall have 
one, for she will speedily be delivered to you.* 

“ ‘ Bourbonois,* answered the King of France, 
‘we wish our daughter were as old as our 
cousin of St. Pol,* — this cousin, Jacquiline, 
was Maude the Fair, and was much admired in 
the camp, — ‘though we were to double her 
dower, for then she would love our cousin from 
England much more.* 


58 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


“ But the King of England bowed quickly. 

‘ Good father-in-law/ he said to our King, 
‘ the age of our wife pleases us right well. We 
pay not great attention to age as we value your 
love, for we shall now be so strongly united 
that no king in Christendom can in any way 
hurt us.' " 

‘‘ Tante Marianne," I said, for I liked not 
this dull talk of the King. 

“Yes, my child." 

“ Pray tell me what they ate at the banquet." 

“ Most certainly, my child. First there was 
jelly colored with the flowers of the columbine, 
with white pottage of almonds. Then they 
served bream of the sea, and conger, and soles, 
and chub, and barbel with roach, and fried smelt, 
and lobster, and leche." 

“ Pray, tante, what may leche be ? " 

“ 'Twas clear jelly damasked with the motto 
of the King. Besides these dishes, Jacquiline, 
they served lamprey fresh baked and most fra- 
grant, and flampagne flourished with a scutcheon 
and wrought of confections, and a subtlety 
named panter, and dates in compost and 
mottled cream.” 



THERE ENTERED THE QUEEN WITH HER WAS 

THE LITTLE ISABELLA. 



wk -pA ., 




■ f ‘•^c' V 

‘ ■• ilk.'- • ^ 

■'7-^v; V O 

Of*' 


•f?-M 





■U."-.. .„ Xl-b-,«*»*«;r.. ' W ^ ^ 



<*/ I ^ l 








, .f*- •<» -' 

^ ''. . V. ^ '/ . • 4 «• ■ • • 










i#'v^ V ' '"’ 



♦ 


db£v,;,'|>' -rift 


. -V. ' 5 , 

: •■Bi 



'i^'r — 

, -y /v\r/ 


THE MARRIAGE 


59 


I would that I had been there, tante ! ” I 
cried, for right fond am I of dates in compost. 

Tante Marianne laughed. 

And when they had made an end of speak- 
ing, Jacquiline, they passed the spices and wine. 
The rest, little one, I saw with my own eyes. 
When the feast was at an end, there entered 
the Queen in a gown of gold brocade trimmed 
with ermine, and a tall head-dress of cloth of 
gold, and velvet embroidered in pearls, the 
veil being of tissue. With her was the little 
Isabella in a pretty Court gown of blue, all 
over with silver fleur-de-lys. The Queen 
proceeded to Monsieur of France, who, taking 
little Isabella by the hand, led her to the King 
of England. 

‘Behold your wife,' said the King of France. 

“For a moment the little Princess did not 
move. Then did she lift those trusting eyes 
and look up in her grave way into the face of 
King Richard. When she beheld the gentle- 
ness of his countenance, the kindness of his 
eyes, she smiled most sweetly. She dropped 
her father s hand. She clasped that of the 
King of England. 


6o 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


“ ^ I hope, my lord and King,’ she said, — we 
all heard her, Jacquiline, — ‘that I shall make 
you a good wife.’ 

“ Then did the King of England stoop and 
kiss her, treating her with most serious dignity. 

“‘God grant, little Isabella,’ he said very 
gently, ‘ that you may be happy in England.’ 

“ Then did he lift her in his arms and kiss 
her most tenderly. Putting her down, he did 
take her hand and lead her right gallantly to 
the seat beside his own. And there did they 
rest, that gentle king and that pretty babe 
about whom they had made this great ado. 

“The King, who ever forgot his dignity, 
did hold her hand in his. But little Isabella 
remembered always that she was a queen. She 
kept a watchful eye upon her mother, and did 
copy most prettily her behavior, sitting erect 
and listening with a grave air of interest to the 
lords. 

“ On the morrow we made ready to march 
into Calais. This meeting had taken place 
without the city. But first did the Little Queen 
bid farewell to her parents and the ladies of 
France. 


THE MARRIAGE 


6i 


With the King of England had come many- 
splendid ladies of his Court. There were the 
Duchess of Gloucester, the Duchess of Lan- 
caster, the Duchess of York, and the Duchess 
of Ireland. 

Before this march began, old Michelle, 
who was to return to Paris, did detain me to 
say adieu. 

“ ‘ Marianne,’ her tones were most mysteri- 
ous, ^ there are strange prophecies in England. 
I have heard them here in the camp. There 
is one which doth declare that no son of the 
great Edward shall come to the throne, but 
that the crown shall pass to the House of Lan- 
caster. There is also another prophecy. ’Twas 
made by a famous enchanter, a wonderful Mer- 
lin, who yet sleepeth, being held by a charm.’ 

“‘And what was his prophecy, Michelle?’ 
I inquired, for though I did not quite believe 
these things, I had a longing to hear them. 

“She at once repeated — I had reason to 
learn the words, and yet can recall them — 

“ ‘ The accursed moldwarp or mole shall 
perish by a swift judgment, and the kingdom 
be divided by the dragon, the lion, the wolf.’ 


62 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


“ Most mysterious did it all sound, espe- 
cially when Michelle lowered her voice into a 
shrilling whisper, but it was certainly without 
meaning as far as my understanding went. 

Watch, Marianne, watch,’ went on Mich- 
elle, ‘ for I have learned that the moldwarp is 
the badge of the House of Lancaster.’ 

‘‘ I had no time to ask for further explana- 
tion. 

“ ‘ Come, Marianne, come ! ’Tis time to 
depart.’ I heard them calling. 

But Michelle detained me. 

‘‘ ^ Beware of them of Lancaster,’ she said. 

“ ‘ The Duke of Lancaster is a good man, 
Michelle.’ I did remember the kind face of 
old John of Gaunt.” 

“‘He hath a son and that son hath a son,’ 
said Michelle. ‘ Let the little Isabella beware 
of the swan of the Lancasters.’ 

“‘Adieu, Michelle,’ I said, pulling away, for 
still were they calling, ‘Marianne ! Marianne ! ’ 

“ She was the last person I saw as we gal- 
loped away toward Calais. 

“ ‘Standing like a bad omen,’ said Simonette. 
‘ Behold her now.’ 


THE MARRIAGE 


63 


“ She was in the middle of the road, a figure 
in gray serge. 

“ ‘ Beware of the swan of Lancaster,’ she 
called even after we had started. 

‘‘‘Tiresome old thing!’ said Simonette.” 

Tante Marianne suddenly paused. 

“This, Jacquiline, is a good place for stop- 
ping. I have talked enough for one morning. 
Get the backgammon-board, my child, and we 
will play at the game. But first, Jacquiline, let 
me ask if you have taken note of how dearly 
we all loved the Little Queen. The ladies of 
France, my child, wept so at parting that there 
was no restraining them.” 

Tante Marianne looked at me most wistfully. 

I pursed up my lips to her fine white hand. 

“ I will try to be like little Isabella,” I said. 

My aunt made me ashamed of my careless 
“ Yes, my mother,” which so often I used at 
home. Then did she kiss me tenderly. 

We began the game. Tante Marianne did 
win, for my thoughts were elsewhere. 

’Twas all right interesting, this story con- 
cerning the small Isabella, but it appeared to 
be about all other things than forget-me-nots. 


64 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


“ ’Tis a long tale, Jacquiline,'* said my 
very suddenly, as if reading my thoughts, 
shall tell thee more on the morrow/' 
“Yes, Tante Marianne," I said. 


aunt, 

“I 


CHAPTER III 


HOW WE CAME TO ENGLAND 

U PON the morrow came a great lady to 
visit Tante Marianne. She was most 
splendid in a robe of cherry velvet and 
her head-dress was wondrous lofty. With her 
came a little page. 

Tante Marianne, drawing me forward, 
said : — 

‘‘ Madame, here is my niece of whom I did 
speak.” 

I made a courtesy. 

Thy name, fair child ^ ” inquired the 
grand lady, in tones most kind. 

“Jacquiline, if you please, Madame,” I said. 
She did question me somewhat concerning 
my home and my parents, and I did note that 
she smiled at Tante Marianne at some of my 
replies. 

Presently she did pause and ask me no 


more. 


65 


66 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


“ Run thou away, Jacquiline/* commanded 
my aunt. 

I made my way to the window-seat and there 
did feast my eyes upon the splendor of the 
lady until my aunt led her from the room. 
How grand was her train ! Much did I crave 
a long robe above all else in the world ! 

I sprang from my seat. I stooped until my 
little gown did sweep the floor as had that of 
the lady. I did make endeavor to walk, but, 
alas, with bent knees ’tis not easy to be stately. 

A laugh startled me into uprightness. 

I had forgotten the page. 

I saw him by the door, a gallant little figure 
in a tunic of green velvet, with hose colored 
as the roses, and in his hand a cap with a gay, 
sweeping plume. 

“ Some day shall you have a train without 
such trouble,” he did say with an air most 
grave and wise. 

I drew near to where he stood and I asked 
of him his name. 

Albret, if you please,” he did reply. 

And thine, fair maid ? ” 

“ Jacquiline,” I said. 


HOW WE CAME TO ENGLAND 67 

And then did he begin to talk. He, too, 
was from the country and he was most lone- 
some at Court. At home he had three sisters 
and a baby brother. 

I told him of Henri and Louis and Angelique. 

He was very fair and most gentle, and truly 
was I right sorry when the grand lady sum- 
moned him to depart. 

Now for the story,’’ I cried, when Tante 
Marianne at length returned to her work. 

I ran to the credence and brought forth my 
embroidery. 

Work hard, Jacquiline,” said Tante Mari- 
anne, have shown your work to Madame, 
and she hath promised to purchase it when 
you shall be older and shall do it more per- 
fectly.” 

^‘Yes, tante,” I said; “but may I not hear 
the story ? ” 

My aunt began at once. 

“ ’Twas upon All Saints’ Day, Jacquiline,” 
she said. “ But stay, my child, tell me upon 
what day cometh that feast.” 

“ Upon the first day of November.” Most 
proud was I that I possessed such knowledge. 


68 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


Tante Marianne patted my hand. 

“ Thy mother hath taught thee well/’ she 
said. 

‘‘ Upon All Saints’ Day, then, in the year 
of our Lord 1396, Madame, our little Princess, 
was married to Richard of England. 

“We betook ourselves to the Church of 
St. Nicholas, and there was she wed to the 
King by the Archbishop of Canterbury. 
That mighty prelate — there is none higher 
in England, Jacquiline — was arrayed in a 
white robe partly covered by one of blue and 
silver. ’Twas a pretty sight to behold a baby 
bride, and the whole affair was most splendid. 

“There was one thing, however, which did 
much trouble me. ’Twas the fierce look of 
dislike which the Duke of Gloucester cast 
upon the Little Queen. Her pretty ways 
touched not his jealous heart. Ofttimes did 
he beat impatiently with his foot on the floor. 

“ At the church, when the King of England 
renounced his claim to the throne of France, 
the face of this lord grew dark with anger. 
In all her life this Duke of Gloucester was the 
one person who disliked our Princess. 


HOW WE CAME TO ENGLAND 69 


‘‘For two days, Jacquiline, we made merry. 

“ Upon the third came the Duke of Orleans 
and the Duke of Burgundy, to make their 
adieux to their little niece. 

“ They forgot her new honors and did treat 
her as a child. 

“ She drew herself up most haughtily. 

“‘My lords and uncles,’ — the dignity did 
make her words most amusing, — ‘ I pray you 
remember that I am now the Queen of Eng- 
land.’ 

“ At that the dukes burst into laughter. 

“ Little Isabella looked most grievously hurt, 
and she had much ado to keep back the tears. 

“ At once her husband saw the trouble. 

“ ‘ My lords,’ he said, and raised his eye- 
brows. Then did he lead the Little Queen 
to a seat beside his own. 

“ ‘ Madame,’ he said most solemnly, ‘ you 
are in truth the Queen of England, and death 
to him who forgetteth it.’ 

“Then did the dukes most humbly crave 
her pardon, albeit their eyes were right merry 
and said much to the watchers. Their apolo- 
gies pleased little Isabella so much that she 


70 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


gazed upon the King with the most loving of 
looks. From the beginning he treated her 
with the dignity she so much did love. 

“ On Friday we went to Mass. Upon 
leaving the Church we entered a splendid 
boat ; the sails were set for the cliffs of Dover, 
and in three hours we found ourselves in 
England. 

“They did give us meat at the Castle, and 
then we set forth through Kent. We galloped 
hard, and made fine haste. 

“ ‘ Look, Marianne ! Look ! ' 

“ 'Twas Simonette. She pointed before us. 

“ Upon the banks of a broad river arose the 
gray walls of a castle. 

“ ‘ 'Tis Rochester,’ announced a servitor, gal- 
loping along the line. ‘ We are to pause here 
for the night. Make ready for tarrying.’ 

“ Then did come the Constable of the Castle. 
John of Newtown was his name. He welcomed 
the Little Queen in the name of the people of 
Kent, and led us into the Castle. We rested well 
that night, and rose early that we might make 
a good start. But the King willed otherwise. 
He would show the Little Queen the Castle. 


HOW WE CAME TO ENGLAND 71 


‘ Come, my Isabella,’ he said. 

“ He commanded both Simonette and me to 
follow, and he led the way up the stairs to the 
top of the Keep. Marry, my child, but those 
steps are steep ! My knees ache now at the 
memory. Because of little Isabella the King 
ofttimes would pause in the ascent and let her 
rest upon the seat of one of the windows. At 
length we reached the highest point. Never 
shall I forget that fair Kentish country stretched 
so broadly below us, the tranquil river, the cliffs, 
the English fields. Even in November it was 
beautiful, for the season was late. 

‘‘^You should behold it in the summer,’ 
said the King. 

“He took the Little Queen upon his 
knee. 

“^’Twas this Castle, little Isabella, which 
was taken by Wat the Tyler.’ 

“ ‘ And pray, my lord,’ — little Isabella 
kissed his hand — ‘ who was he ? Who was 
Wat the Tyler ? ’ 

“ And there, high in the Castle at Rochester, 
the King told us of the uprising of the men of 
Essex and of Kent. 


72 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


“‘To-day/ began the King, ‘we are to 
march to Dartford. When your husband, 
little Isabella, was but a lad of fifteen, there 
dwelt at this Dartford a tyler named Wat. 

“ ‘ It chanced one day that a tax-collector 
behaved most unseemly toward a daughter of 
this Wat. At once arose a quarrel. The 
news of the trouble spread. Like the gather- 
ing of the clouds before a storm, the men of 
Essex and of Kent hurried to Dartford. They 
heard the story. They placed Wat the Tyler 
at their head, and crying out against the laws 
which laid such taxes upon them — though, by 
my faith, Madame, there was nothing wrong in 
the taxes, only in the tax-gatherer — 'tis the 
duty of the people of England to pay taxes, 
how else are we to live ? — they marched to 
this Rochester Castle, where now we so peace- 
fully rest. 

“ ‘ ’Twas not difficult to take it, since no one 
knew of their coming. 

“ ‘ “ To Canterbury ! To Canterbury ! 
then cried their leader. 

“ ‘ With shout and cry they began a march 
through Kent. It was a terrible time, my 


HOW WE CAME TO ENGLAND 73 

child. On the road they met a party of trav- 
ellers. 'Twas my lady mother the Princess of 
Wales returning from Canterbury.' 

“ The King laughed. 

“ ‘ She was most beautiful then, my mother. 
The men could not but pause because of their 
wonder at her fairness. Seeing her danger, she 
smiled upon those ruffians most pleasantly, and 
besought them to permit her to depart. 

a < « For a kiss, Madame, for a kiss ! " cried 
the leaders. 

“ ‘ 'Tis easier to kiss than to die, and there- 
fore did my mother offer her cheek to those 
great rough men. Without other trouble they 
then permitted her to depart upon her way. 
She at once hastened with the news to where 
we were lodging in the Tower. 

‘ At that time, my child, our uncles held 
the reins of government, and they sent us 
whither they would, albeit we even then were 
the King of England. 

“ ‘ The mob followed on her heels to Lon- 
don. They sacked and they burnt, and they 
did most cruelly murder all the French and 
the Flemish they found in the streets. At 


74 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


night they made bonfires, and held awful riot ; 
marry, but 'twas frightful ! ' 

‘‘ ‘ And where, my lord, were you ? ' asked 
the Little Queen, holding fast his hand, and 
looking up into his face with her big brown 
eyes. 

“‘In the Tower, little one,' replied the 
King. ‘With me was our cousin Henry. 
You will meet him, my child. He is the son 
of our uncle of Lancaster. They call him 
Harry of Hereford. And he hath a little lad, 
Hal we call him, and he shall play with you 
when you come to Windsor.' 

“And then, Jacquiline, his Majesty told us 
of how the riots grew fiercer and more fierce. 
Men rode by the Tower. In their hands were 
spikes and upon them were the heads of 
murdered men. 'Twas most terrible ! 

“ ‘ Then went we forth to quiet them,' said 
Richard the King. ‘We made them promises 
and at once grew they still. We were but fif- 
teen and 'twas a fearful thing to face those 
angry men. It did no good, however. On 
the morrow the tumult was fiercer than before. 
Then did we ride boldly to Smithfieid where 


HOW WE CAME TO ENGLAND 75 

we knew that we should find Wat the Tyler. 
We saw him at once. 

‘ He walked boldly before us. 

^ King,’’ he cried, seest thou these men 
here ? They have all sworn to do whatsoever 
I shall command.” 

“ ^ Then looked we calmly in his face. 

<c c « Very well,” we said, “ I do not gainsay it.” 
“ ^ All might have ended well, but before he 
could reply a riot arose. 

“Hn it the Lord Mayor of London slew 
this Wat. 

‘ Quick as the lightning flashes came to us 
a thought of how best to act. 

We rode to the head of the rioters. We 
waved our hand. We cried: — 

« c cc »Yis I who am your leader. Follow 
me.” ’ 

‘‘‘’Twas most brave, my lord.’ The Little 
Queen gazed into the face of the King with 
eyes of adoring admiration. ‘ Thou wert most 
courageous.’ 

The King smiled right lovingly. The 
praise of the child was sweet to his ears. 

“ ^ It ended the riot,’ he said. 


76 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


“ While King Richard had been telling the 
Little Queen this story, the cavalcade had been 
waiting below in the courtyard. The sound 
of the horses’ feet as they struck impatiently 
upon the stones came reprovingly to our ears. 

“The King arose most wearily. A deep 
sadness settled upon his beautiful face. 

“ ‘ Come, little one, come. Madame, we 
must depart. As for me,’ he added, patting 
her hand, ‘gladly would I forget crowns and 
kingdoms, and dwell with thee in this quiet for- 
ever.’ 

“He led the way down the steps. We fol- 
lowed behind, treading slowly because of the 
long robe of the Little Queen. 

“ As we marched toward Dartford I thought 
upon what I had heard. It did much disquiet 
me. I had been all my life at Court and I had 
learned to read signs. I liked not this story 
of Wat the Tyler, and I liked it not that the 
King of England should pause so long with a 
child to tell a story while his lords waited be- 
low impatient for the march. Kings need 
hearts of valor and not of softness. I much 
loved the King — all women did — but I liked 


HOW WE CAME TO ENGLAND 77 


not his story. It sounded, my child, like the 
Jacquerie in Paris. Already had the French 
riots taught the world that kings are not safe 
when the Commons are discontented. The 
King, however, seemed gay enough as we 
marched. 

‘‘We paused at Dartford. From there we did 
go to Eltham, where the lords and ladies, taking 
leave of the King and the Queen, proceeded to 
their own homes. Upon the day following 
came we to Kennington, and then with mist and 
rain did England strike her winter dampness 
clear to our bones. 

“ ‘ Bah ! ’ cried Simonette, ‘ but this is a sad 
country ! The saints save us, Marianne, but I 
do most grievously long for the sun.’ 

“ Then did she begin her fault-finding with 
the English and never did it cease until again 
she smiled in the sunlight of France. They 
were cold, they were dull, they knew naught 
of jesting, of fun. 

“ We stopped at a palace in a place called 
Lambeth, then passing through Southwark we 
galloped over London Bridge where great 
crowds had gathered to behold the Queen. So 


78 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


great was the crushing, that nine of the King’s 
subjects were killed. ’Twas a bad omen, Jac- 
quiline. Even I saw that. 

“ Then came we to a most dreary place 
called the Tower of London. My little Jac- 
quiline, pray the saints that you may never 
sleep in so gloomy a spot. It standeth upon 
the banks of the river Thames and is a place 
most full of stories of the past, and most bloody 
stories, my child. ’Tis said that the great 
Roman, Julius Caesar, laid the first stones. 
There are others who declare Norman Duke 
William to have built it. This dreadful Tower 
is used as a prison, and on the hill near by they 
did, in those days, behead the subjects con- 
demned to die. 

“We lodged in the Keep which bore the 
name of ‘ The White Tower.’ The Little 
Queen was full of joy. Her laughter rang 
most merrily, and the sound of her baby feet 
was heard on those dreary steps. ’Twas 
strange that she should play as a merry child 
in the spot where two men who loved her were 
to suffer most cruelly. 

“ ’Twas impossible not to love so gentle, so 


HOW WE CAME TO ENGLAND 79 


amiable a child. Once even did the Duke of 
Gloucester smile when she did discourse in 
quaint and courtly phrases concerning her lord 
and husband the King. 

‘‘ But for all this love and all this prettiness 
right piteously wept I at her coronation. 

‘‘ ’Twas most solemn to behold a babe in 
that lofty church behaving with such dignity 
when upon her little head they did place the 
crown of a queen. The ceremony took place 
in January at the splendid Abbey called West- 
minster. Immediately after they did settle us 
at the castle at Windsor. 

^‘And now, Jacquiline,’' said Tante Mari- 
anne, I shall tell thee no more. The visit 
of Madame somewhat did fatigue me. One 
thing only I shall say. I would have thee to 
consider how the Little Queen won the love of 
all by being herself most loving. It is well to 
dream at times, little one, but if we do lose our- 
selves too much in our thoughts, how shall we 
remember the needs of others ? I would have 
thee, my Jacquiline, like little Isabella, loved 
of all who know thee.” 

Tante Marianne spoke most lovingly. The 


8o THE LITTLE QUEEN 

look in her eyes brought my arms about her 
neck. 

‘‘ Dear tante/’ I cried, “ I shall try ever to 
please thee.’’ 

She held me close and most gently did 
stroke my hair. 

Presently did she loosen her embrace and 
I slipped from her arms. 

“ Run thou and play,’* she did say. 

’Twas dull by myself. I thought of the 
page called Albret. I did wish that he dwelt 
with Tante Marianne. 

I also wished that Tante Marianne would 
remember how much I longed to know con- 
cerning the forget-me-nots. 


CHAPTER IV 


MATH 

T he next morning brought Albret the 
page. 

He bore a message from his mistress 
which sent Tante Marianne to her stores of 
embroidery. She gave Albret permission to 
remain with me while she selected such as his 
mistress did desire. 1 brought forth the tarots, 
cards they call them, Tante Marianne said, 
in England. My aunt had a most beautiful 
set all gold and silver and ornamented with 
devices. 

“ I wish, Jacquiline, you lived at Court,’’ 
said Albret. 

‘‘And I wish, Albret, that you lived with 
Tante Marianne,” said I. 

Then we both laughed right merrily. 

After Albret had gone his way, Tante Mari- 
anne began the story. 

G 8i 


82 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


“ ’Twas quiet at Windsor,” she said, ‘‘the 
winter sobered us with its gray skies and 
wrapped us in its mists. It was indeed a 
dreary England. I wondered that the people 
loved it. You see then I knew naught of its 
summer. 

“ Oft came the King to visit the Queen. 
Together would they play as children. It was 
a strange sight, Jacquiline, to behold the King 
of a mighty realm playing at dolls with a baby. 
The Little Queen had no thought but to please 
him. For hours would she sit most lovingly 
in his lap, her head against his breast. Some- 
times would he teach her a collect or song. 

“The King was truly very beautiful to gaze 
upon. ‘ The gentle Plantagenet,’ our Lady de 
Coucy did call her cousin. Ofttimes brought 
he some kinsman to visit the Queen. 

“ I remember one morning the King ap- 
peared with two strangers. I saw them as 
they awaited the Little Queen. One was a 
man of the same age as the King. I noted 
him closely, being strangely attracted, I knew 
not why. 

“I noted the narrowness of his face, the 


MATH 


83 


smallness of his ears, and the shortness of the 
upper lip beneath the mustache. I was but a 
young girl in knowledge, but I knew quickly 
that I liked not that face. I trusted not its 
owner. I glanced from its keenness to the soft 
features of the King. I noted the golden hair, 
the gentle mouth, the eyes so baffled by life, 
and I prayed the good God that our King 
would not too much trust the man at his 
side. 

“ With them came a little lad. His frame 
was right delicate, but about him was a look of 
truth and bravery. He wore a little sword at 
his side fastened with a black silk knot. 

When in came Madame the Little Queen, I 
heard the King tell her that he had brought to 
visit her his cousin Harry of Hereford. Then 
did I know that the lord with the evil, avari- 
cious face was Henry of Lancaster, and I re- 
called old Michelle and her prophecy. 

So this was the ‘ cursed moldwarp ’ ! 

‘ And this is Hal ! ’ cried the King. 

He drew forward the lad. 

‘‘He had been gazing at the Queen ever 
since she entered. 


84 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


‘ My lord and cousin/ he said to the King, 
‘ I should like to marry this lady/ 

“ At that the King did laugh most merrily. 

“‘Nay, nay, Hal,’ he said, and he took Isa- 
bella by the hand. ‘ The lady is mine.’ 

“ The boy bit his lip and blushed right 
rosily. 

“ ‘ I forgot, my lord,’ he said. ‘ I crave thy 
pardon.’ 

“ Then did he turn to the Queen. 

“ ‘ Madame,’ he said, ‘ have you a sister ? 
If so, and my lord and cousin permits, I would 
wed her if she look like you.’ 

“ When he heard that she had naught but 
brothers, his face did fall grievously. 

“ Then to mend matters. King Richard led 
the lad to the harp. ’Twas a pretty sight, the 
delicate, sweet-faced boy taking his place by 
the instrument. 

“ ‘ Let us hear thee play, my child,’ said the 
King. 

“ Then did Prince Hal play right wonder- 
fully, his small fingers calling forth melody 
most soothing. Later was I told that he was 
a child wonderful for learning and skill in many 


MATH 


85 


things. Before he departed Madame the Little 
Queen had me bring to his notice her pape- 
jay. 'Twas a bird most wonderful for its 
speaking, Jacquiline, and its plumage was 
green, its beak most curved. The two chil- 
dren played together right happily, but I noted 
that the Little Queen was most distant with the 
lord of Hereford and Bolingbroke. She liked 
him not. ’Twas easy to see that. 

“ Although the King came often, there were 
many hours in which the Little Queen had to 
depend upon Simonette and me for amusement. 

“ One gloomy day she had me dress her 
most gorgeously, in a robe of gleaming white 
embroidered in flowers of gold and leaves of 
green. Over it was a network of gold. Then 
did she have summoned Simonette. She com- 
manded her to dance away the gloom. 

“ ‘ Dance as in France, good girl,’ she cried. 

“ Simonette began to whirl round merrily, a 
gay little figure in a puffed gown of red. Then 
suddenly in came the King, a gorgeous figure 
in jacket of brown and gold bordered with fur, 
a dagger at his waist, cracowes of the color of 
roses, and about his throat a chain of gems. . 


86 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


He took the Little Queen by the hand, 
and led her forth. They did march right 
merrily up and down the hall. 

“I can see them now, Jacquiline, the King 
and the child, the silks and the jewels. 

“When Madame the Queen was tired, the 
King took her by the hand and led her to a 
seat upon a camel bench. 

“ Simonette and I retreated to the side of 
the room. We brought forth our work and 
stitched steadily. 

“ King Richard, to amuse the Little Queen, 
did describe to her his own coronation. 

“He was crowned, he said, when he was but 
eleven. His father, the Black Prince, was the 
oldest of the six sons of Edward. Upon his 
death Richard became the heir. 

“ ‘ I was but eleven, Madame,' said the King, 
^when I was crowned at Westminster.' 

“ He sighed most wearily. 'Twas said about 
the castle that the King was made for love, not 
war, and that affairs of state possessed for him 
no interest. 

“ Upon the day of his coronation he first 
received the Mass in his private chapel, being 


MATH 


87 


arrayed in most gorgeous apparel, but wearing 
only buskins on his feet. At Westminster 
Abbey he lay prostrate before the altar while 
they chanted the Litany. 

“ ‘ The ceremony was exceeding long,’ said 
the King ; ^ my bones, my child, ache at the 
memory.’ 

‘‘He pretended to be overcome with fatigue, 
and we heard the Little Queen laugh gayly. 

“‘Nay, nay, Madame,’ — the King did pre- 
tend to be wounded, — ‘ do not laugh. ’Twas a 
most sad matter for the little boy they would 
make into a king. I felt myself growing fainter 
and fainter. The words of the Archbishop 
seemed to come from some place miles away. 
The Abbey seemed turning round and round, 
and then I knew no more. When I came to 
myself, I was no longer in the church. They 
had borne me to where the fresh air might 
revive me. I was never an overly strong 
child, and you know, Madame, how they tire 
us with all their ceremony.’ 

“ ‘ Yes, my lord,’ answered the Queen. She, 
also, had been to Westminster Abbey. 

“ Then did the King tell of the splendid 


88 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


banquet. In the midst of the palace was a 
great marble pillar raised hollow upon steps. 
Upon the top thereof was a royal eagle. From 
the pillar itself rushed forth wine, and thither 
came the poor and drank all day long. 

“The Little Queen declared her delight in 
such doings. 

“^’Twas fine, most wondrous fine,* agreed 
the King, ‘ but most grievously tiresome for a 
poor little boy who could not run about, but 
must sit in state upon his throne.* 

“ Then we heard the Little Queen ask Rich- 
ard if it had not made him proud to be king. 
She herself most truly loved the royal dignity. 

“ ‘ I was sorry for that tired little boy,* said 
the King, ‘and I am sorry for him now. You 
know not, my child, how heavily presseth a 
crown of gold.* 

“ ‘ But nay, I do, my lord,* cried the Little 
Queen. ‘ Have I not a crown of gold ? *Tis 
not heavy, but most beautiful, and it is orna- 
mented with the fleur-de-lys.* 

“The King laughed most indulgently. He 
did not press the matter, but proceeded to tell 
her how his uncle of Gloucester acted as regent. 


MATH 89 

and of how, when Richard became of age, he 
would not loose his hold. 

‘‘ ‘ Then one day,’ said the King, ‘ we went 
right boldly into the Council Chamber. There 
sat our uncle of Gloucester surrounded by the 
lords. 

« « ‘c My lord and uncle,” we said, tell 
me my age.” 

<c etc Your grace,” he did reply, ‘Gs in his 
twenty-second year.” 

ucccThen, my uncle,” we said, “I have been 
under tutors and governors longer than any 
ward in your dominion. My lords, I thank 
you for your services, but I need them no 
more.” 

“ ‘ With these words, my child, did we loosen 
our uncle’s hold on the reins. We had our- 
self crowned a second time, and with a grand 
tournament we became the real king of Eng- 
land.’ 

We heard his voice ring through the room. 

“ Could this brave speaker be the gentle 
Plantagenet ? 

‘^’Twas only for a moment. The fire died 
away; Richard became the gentle King we 


90 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


knew so well. He gathered the Little Queen 
to his arms. Presently did he put her to the 
ground. 

“ ‘ Come, little one/ he said, ^ bid our good 
Marianne fetch hither your dolls. I have a 
game. We shall call it Coronation. Here are 
the crowns ! ’ 

“He drew from his finger two rings. 

“ I brought the dolls. 

“ ‘ Behold their Majesties ! ' he cried, and he 
placed a ring upon each head. 

“Then did he tell Isabella how, when he 
and the good Queen Anne were crowned, there 
were fountains in the street which sent forth 
streams of wines of four colors, and of how 
young girls, dressed as angels, blew gold-dust 
upon them, and of how all was gayety and 
splendor. 

“ Presently did he kiss the Queen and 
depart. 

“ One day he brought Math.’' 

“ And pray who was Math, tante ? ” I 
inquired. 

I had been silent so long a time that much 
work had been done by my needle. Before 


MATH 


91 


she answered me Tante Marianne cast an eye 
on my work. She praised it most heartily. 
My eyes danced with delight. 

Do at all times your best, Jacquiline,’' she 
said, good work will ever repay you.” 

Then did she continue the story. 

“ On the day that Math came, my child, the 
news of the King’s arrival was brought by a 
page. The Little Queen hastened to the 
window. 

“ ^ ’Tis Math,’ she cried, ‘ ’tis Math. Good 
Marianne, come, behold ! ’Tis Math ! ’ 

“ I looked and beheld our lord, the King, 
dismounting from his splendid horse. Most 
dearly did Richard love a beautiful beast. At 
the moment that his feet touched the earth 
I saw a greyhound, lithe and slender, and most 
wonderously beautiful, spring upon his hind 
legs. With his paws resting upon the shoul- 
ders of the King, he did caress him fondly. 

He always doth so act,’ cried the Queen, 
in great excitement. ‘ My lord hath told 
me.’ 

“ Then in came the King. Behind him 
walked Math. 


92 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


“ ‘ Good morrow, Madame,’ he said to the 
Queen. 

She ran to greet him ; she clung to his 
hand. The dog, seeing this, became filled with 
anger. His body quivered. He seemed ready 
to spring upon the child. He would tear her 
to pieces. The King was his, and his alone. 

‘ Down, Math, down ! ’ cried Richard. He 
fondled the dog most lovingly. 

‘‘ ‘ My one true friend,’ he said, lifting the 
long, slender mouth in his hand. ‘ Come 
what may, thou. Math, wilt never desert thy 
friend.’ 

“To the surprise of the King, the Little 
Queen flew into a rage. No one had ever be- 
fore beheld her angry. She stamped her foot. 
The red flamed in her face. She clenched her 
hand. 

“ ‘ ’Tis false, my lord, ’tis false,’ she cried. 
^ I am thy friend. I will never, nay never, 
never desert thee ! ’ 

“ Then did she burst into bitter tears, and 
the King had much ado to quiet her. 

“ ‘ I am thy friend. I am thy friend,’ she 
sobbed over and over. 


MATH 


93 


“ The King kissed her. He told her that 
he loved her, again and again. 

“ H am thy friend, say that I am thy friend.’ 
The crying was piteous. 

“At last, worn out by her grief, she fell 
asleep in the arms of the King, her little tear- 
stained face resting lovingly against the white 
hart on his breast. As for Math, he lay on 
the floor, his long head resting upon the foot 
of the King. ’Twas a picture most beautiful, 
— the King, the child, the dog, — and, Jacqui- 
line, my child, ’twas the last time that I saw a 
look of happiness upon the face of Richard.” 

“ But why, tante ? ” I asked, dropping my 
embroidery. 

Perchance I was now to hear of the forget- 
me-nots. 

“ I told you, Jacquiline, that the story is 
long. Wait patiently, and you shall hear it 
all,” Tante Marianne did say. “ I fear, how- 
ever, Jacquiline, that the King was happy only 
in those quiet moments at Windsor, the mo- 
ments spent with his baby Queen. There was 
talk in the palace that his Majesty was harassed 
night and day concerning the money which 


94 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


must be procured to meet the expenses of the 
wedding with Isabella. 

“In the course of time spring drove away 
the mists and gray clouds. We heard the 
nightingales, the thrush, and, as the year went 
on, the notes of the lark soaring in the sky. 
The sun was everywhere. Even Simonette 
forgot the winter, and cried : — 

“ ‘ How lovely is England ! ’ 

“ Fair indeed were the fields ; fair, the 
flowers ; fair, the gentle 'flowing river ; but, 
alas, over our own fair living a cloud, large and 
dark enough to forever banish our sunlight, 
was gathering in England. 

“ The trouble began with the Duke of 
Gloucester, that uncle of the King who had 
acted as Regent. He, as I have told you, Jacqui- 
line, never favored the French marriage. ’Twas 
rumored that Richard, at the time of the dis- 
agreement, bought off his opposition with five 
hundred thousand nobles. I know not what all 
the trouble was about, my child. Only court- 
iers understand such matters, but darker and 
darker grew the rumors concerning the King 
and this same Duke of Gloucester. Then one 


MATH 


95 


day came news that Gloucester had plotted 
against the lives of the King and Queen. ’Twas 
said that he had even made propositions to the 
Earl of March, the King’s dearest friend and 
the heir to the crown, to join with him and 
others in seizing the throne and shutting up the 
King and Queen for life. 

“ I lay awake at night thinking upon this 
news. Oh ! that my little mistress was safely 
back in France ! 

‘‘ One morning came the Count de la Pol to 
visit his wife, the Queen’s governess and the 
King’s relative. 

“ Upon his departure riots began in London. 
’Twas said that the French lord came, not only 
to visit his wife, but to propose the selling of 
Calais to the French by the King. 

‘‘ The little Queen heard naught of the 
trouble. When next Richard visited her, she 
asked right innocently concerning their uncle of 
Gloucester. The King strode up and down 
most fiercely. 

^ Name not the word Gloucester in my 
hearing ! ’ he cried. 

Little Isabella looked at him in amaze- 


96 THE LITTLE QUEEN 

ment. Never before had the King so addressed 
her. 

“ ‘ My husband/ she began, when there en- 
tered a messenger. 

“ ‘ My lord,' he said, when the King had 
given him permission to speak, ‘ my lord, the 
Duke of Gloucester is no more ! ' 

“'Tis said, even to this day, Jacquiline, that 
Richard commanded the slaying of this uncle. 

“Nay, nay, get not excited, my child — " 
for I cried out in my horror. “ I believe it 
not, Jacquiline, for I saw his real surprise and 
grief at the news." 

“ Nor do I believe it, my aunt,” I said. 

Tante Marianne smiled. 

“ 'Twas reported also, Jacquiline, by the Earl 
Marshal, that the Duke expired of apoplexy. 
There does the matter rest. Nor has it ever 
been made clear in England as to how died this 
lord of Gloucester. Whatever the cause, the 
result was the beginning of the trouble which 
overwhelmed Richard.” 

At this point Tante Marianne paused. 

“ This,” she said, “ will be a fitting place to 
stop in the story.” 


MATH 


97 


I folded up my work. I drew my bench 
near to my aunt. 

“ Ma tante,” I began, you please — 

“Yes, my child.” 

“ Did not the Little Queen miss her father 
and mother ? ” 

Paris was very fine. Xante Marianne was an 
aunt most loving and kind. Nevertheless there 
had been times during my visit when ’twas hard 
to sleep for wanting to behold the faces of my 
father and my mother. I did long to shout 
with Henri and Louis. I desired much to em- 
brace the little Angelique, to hear the sweet gur- 
gle of her voice, to kiss the soft baby curve of 
her cheek. And I was safe with Xante Mari- 
anne. The Little Queen was far from her home, 
in a strange cold land, with dangers upon every 
side. I drew near my aunt at the thought 
of it. 

“Indeed, yes,” answered Xante Marianne. 
“ *Xwas plain to us all that she longed very 
often for Madame, her mother. Queen Isabeau, 
remember, had been a good mother to her first 
children, albeit she did so cruelly neglect the 
others. But Isabella, my child, was a nature 


H 


98 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


to love some one person with her whole heart. 
And so entirely did she love her husband that 
she knew that it would most greatly disturb 
him if she fretted for home, and therefore, baby 
that she was, she conquered the feeling. Even 
a child Isabella of Valois chose love for her 
guide. But run now, Jacquiline, and bring 
thither my mirror. I would remove the stains 
which have gathered upon its surface.” 

I brought to my aunt the mirror from her 
room. Hers was the first that ever I had be- 
held. *Twas a gift to her from some lady at 
Court and was made of metal most highly pol- 
ished. Much did I love to steal to her room 
and behold myself in its surface. 

‘‘As for you,” said Tante Marianne, in- 
specting the mirror, “ you may open the 
great chest in my room. Therein you will 
find a dress once worn by the Little Queen. 
My Lady de Coucy did bestow it upon me 
for the asking when little Isabella had grown 
too large to wear it.” 

Full of joy I rushed to the chest. 

It was beautifully carved and had great 
lifters of iron. The lid had been raised by 


MATH 


99 


Tante Marianne, so at once I began lifting 
out the things. 

The dress of the Little Queen lay near the 
top. ’Twas most beautiful, being made of 
cherry velvet lined with blue of delicate hue, 
and edged with ermine. The jacket was to be 
worn over a robe of white embroidered in 
silver fleur-de-lys. 

I handled it most reverently. I shut my 
eyes that I might see before me the little 
girl, who once had worn it and in it sat upon 
the lap of a king. 

Then a daring thought entered my brain. 

In a moment off I tossed my gown of 
green. With timid haste I slipped on the 
robes of the little Isabella. My hair too was 
dark, but my cheeks were rosy, not pale, like 
those of the Queen. 

By all the saints ! cried Marie, the ser- 
vant, as I came upon her, a little peafowl, 
enjoying my fine feathers and splendid train. 

She caught my hand, and pulled me into the 
room where still sat Tante Marianne. 

I trembled in the fear that my aunt might 
be angry. 

LofC. 


100 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


But no. She smiled very kindly, but for a 
moment turned away and quietly wiped her 
eyes. 

I longed most ardently to behold myself in 
the mirror, but, since Tante Marianne once 
had chided me for my vanity, I dared not ask 
the permission. Also I wished that Albret 
could behold me. 'Twas most sad that he 
should be far away at the palace. 

As I danced from the room 1 could not but 
hear Marie exclaim : — 

“ By the saints, the child is beautiful ! 

My aunt quickly cautioned her not to 
spoil me. 

“ I have great plans for the child, good 
Marie,” she said ; “ but they rest not so much 
upon her fairness as upon her learning to serve 
others.” 

Here was another puzzle to add to the 
matter of the forget-me-nots ! What, I 
wondered, could be the plans of Tante 
Marianne ? 


CHAPTER V 


NORFOLK AND BOLINGBROKE 

“"1LTOW, Jacquiline,” said Xante Mari- 
anne the next day, this morning 
shall I tell you of a most grievous 
quarrel which arose between the lords of Eng- 
land. You may find it somewhat dull, but 
without it you cannot understand the rest of 
my story. 

“ The King of England, you remember, had 
a cousin called Harry of Hereford, or Henry 
of Bolingbroke — '' 

“ The lord, ma tante, with the face you liked 
not ? He had a little boy named Hal ? ” 

The same my child,’’ said Tante Marianne. 

“Now this lord, Jacquiline, did possess a 
number of titles. He was called at different 
times Henry of Bolingbroke, of Hereford, 
of Derby, of Lancaster. A fine quarrel arose 
between him and the Duke of Norfolk, the 


lOI 


102 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


Earl Marshal, who had married the Queen 
by proxy. So much discord and tumult did 
their disagreement cause that the King sent a 
command for both these lords to appear before 
him at Windsor. 

“ Upon the day appointed came the lords 
to the castle, where King Richard and the 
peers of the realm were seated upon a great 
scaffold which had been erected for the 
occasion. 

“ The King demanded of Bolingbroke and 
Norfolk the cause of their quarrel. They 
replied not, but turned and glared each in 
the face of the other. 

‘‘ ‘ Thou art a traitor and a miscreant ! ' cried 
Bolingbroke to Norfolk. 

“ ‘ And thou a slanderous coward and a 
villain!' came hot from Norfolk. 

Outraged at such violence. King Richard 
commanded peace. He urged them to make 
friends together. They refused most vio- 
lently. 

“ ‘Villain r 

“ ‘ Traitor ! ' The words flew like missiles. 

The King again commanding peace did 


NORFOLK AND BOLINGBROKE 103 


demand of Bolingbroke the cause of his 
quarrel with Norfolk. 

Straightway there did step forward a knight. 

Right dear and sovereign lord/ he said to 
the King, ‘ here is Henry of Lancaster, Duke 
of Hereford and Earl of Derby, who saith, and 
I say for him, that Thomas Mowbray, Duke of 
Norfolk, is a false and disloyal traitor to you 
and your Royal Majesty and to your whole 
realm, and likewise the Duke of Hereford 
saith, and I for him, that Thomas Mowbray, 
Duke of Norfolk, had received eight thousand 
nobles to pay the soldiers that keep your town 
of Calais, which hath not been done as he 
ought. And, furthermore, the said Duke of 
Norfolk hath been the occasion of all the 
treason which had been contrived in your realm 
for the space of these eighteen years, and by 
his false suggestions and malicious counsels hath 
caused to die and to be murdered your right 
dear uncle the Duke of Gloucester, son of King 
Edward. Moreover, the Duke of Hereford 
saith, and I for him, that he will' prove this 
with his body, against the body of the Duke 
of Norfolk, within the lists.' 


104 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


“ Then did speak a knight for Norfolk. 

“ He denounced the charge of Henry as a 
lie, a right false and wicked lie, and accused 
Henry of treason. He also offered for Nor- 
folk, to try and prove his innocence in the 
lists. 

“ The lists, Jacquiline, meant that the two 
lords would settle their quarrel in a tourna- 
ment, fighting until one should be killed. 
God would protect the innocent. The guilty 
must fall. 'Tis the knightly way of deciding 
quarrels. 

‘‘The King, when the knight had make an end 
of speaking, commanded the Duke of Norfolk 
to defend himself, which thing he then did, 
declaring that he had not misused the gold, 
nor had he ever received a single noble for his 
voyage into France. He confessed that he 
had once lain in wait for the Duke of Lan- 
caster to slay him. But this had he con- 
fessed to John of Gaunt, and by him had he 
been pardoned. Naught, he declared, had he 
had to do with the death of Gloucester. 

“ When the Duke of Norfolk had ended 
his speech, the King and the lords consulted 


NORFOLK AND BOLINGBROKE 105 

together. At length the King commanded 
Norfolk and Hereford to come again before 
him. 

“He inquired if they would not make peace 
together. They both most violently declared 
that they would not. 

“ ‘ Villain ! ’ ‘ Traitor ! ' again burst from 

their lips. 

“ Bolingbroke threw down his gage. 

“ Norfolk took it up. 

“ Then the King, right angry, by St. John 
the Baptist did swear that he would not seek 
to make peace between them again. 

“To end the matter. Sir John Busby, in the 
name of the King and his Council, commanded 
that they have a day appointed when at Coven- 
try they might fight out their trouble.'' 

“ Tante Marianne," — I had ever a gentle 
feeling toward Norfolk, — “ was it true that 
the Earl Marshal was a traitor ? " 

“I know not, my child. For my own part 
I ever suspected the Lord of Bolingbroke. 
But none knoweth the truth of these English 
quarrels. 1 can but tell thee what things did 
come to pass. 


io6 THE LITTLE QUEEN 

At the time appointed, the King journeyed 
to Coventry. 

“ Coventry, my child, is a town somewhat 
distant from London. It lieth near the most 
renowned castle of Kenilworth wherein did 
once dwell the great Simon de Montfort, Earl 
of Leicester. Of this Coventry there hath 
been told me a quaint tale of one Lady 
Godiva, who to save the town from cruel taxes 
did ride throughout its streets at broad mid- 
day clothed only in the raiment of her golden 
hair. 

‘‘ But that hath naught to do with my story. 
I beheld this tournament, Jacquiline, going 
thence with the Lady de Coucy. 

It did come to pass upon a right fair day 
in the month of September. The sun shone 
most brightly upon knights, squires, and ladies 
gathered to behold the combat. 

“By the command of the King there had been 
erected a theatre or scaffold and royal lists. 
There was a tent wherein Bolingbroke did arm 
himself. The Earl Marshal made use of a 
beautiful house betwixt the gate and barrier of 
the town. 


NORFOLK AND BOLINGBROKE 107 


‘‘ A duke in most glittering apparel, who 
afterward played a sorry part in this history, 
came first into the lists, acting as High 
Constable of England. The Duke of Sur- 
rey as Marshal, with a great company of men 
apparelled in silk sendal embroidered with 
silver, each bearing a tipped staff, followed 
close upon his heels. 'Twas a splendid sight, 
Jacquiline. Then came the Duke of Hereford, 
a gorgeous knight, upon a beautiful courser, 
white, and barded with green and blue velvet 
embroidered with swans and antelopes.” 

I shook my head. 

“What is it, my child?” inquired Tante 
Marianne. 

“ Nothing, my aunt. I did but think that 
antelopes and swans must be most difficult to 
embroider.” 

“ Nay, nay, my child,” said Tante Marianne, 
right pleasantly. “ They were in goldsmith’s 
work. They were not done with the needle. 
But to continue. The Marshal and Constable, 
beholding the knight, did demand his name. 

“‘Henry of Hereford, of Derby, of Lan- 
caster,’ came the answer. 


io8 THE LITTLE QUEEN 

“ Then did he declare the cause of the quar- 
rel. He ended by swearing upon the Holy 
Evangelists that this same quarrel was just and 
true. 

‘‘‘And as I truly fight may God defend me!’ 

“ Then put he up the naked sword from out 
of his hand. He drew down his visor and 
made upon his horse the sign of the cross. 
With spear in hand he entered the lists and 
seated himself upon a chair of green velvet. 

“Then entered the King and following him 
came the lords of the realm, all most splendid 
in brave and rich apparel. All together there 
were ten thousand men in armor, and ladies, 
my child, in tunics half of one color and half of 
another, with girdles of gold and silver in which 
were stuck swords or daggers. There was the 
clang of trumpets, the shouts of the beholders, 
the cries of heralds. Marry, ’twas brave I 

“ When the King had seated himself a 
knight-at-arms proclaimed the rules of the lists. 
Then forth stepped a herald who did call : — 

“ ‘ Behold, here, Henry of Lancaster, Duke 
of Hereford.’ 

“ At the moment of his ending the proclama- 


NORFOLK AND BOLINGBROKE 109 


tion came the Duke of Norfolk. He made his 
oath. He declared his quarrel. Most gallant 
did he look seated upon a steed barded with 
crimson velvet. As he galloped in he cried in 
valiant tones : — 

‘‘‘God aid him that hath the right ! ' 

“ When the Herald had proclaimed him, he 
sat him down in a chair of crimson velvet cur- 
tained about with red and white damask. 
Marry, but it was gorgeous ! 

“ The Lord Marshal took two spears. He 
viewed them most carefully. He gave one to 
Bolingbroke and sent the other by a knight to 
Norfolk. 

“Then did the Herald command the two 
knights to mount and forward to the combat. 

“ The sun gleamed bright on the armor. 
Ten thousand eyes strained forward to behold 
the gallant charge, — ten thousand held their 
breath at this, so grand a tournament. 

“ We heard the blare of the trumpet. 

“Forward came the Duke of Hereford. 

“ The Duke of Norfolk made ready. Be- 
fore he could start, however, a cry rang out 
upon the cool, still air : ‘ Ho ! Ho ! ’ 


1 10 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


‘‘ 'Twas the voice of the Herald. 

“ The knights checked their steeds, the sud- 
den shock almost unseating them. The ten 
thousand watching leaned forward right eagerly. 
What had happened ? What could so quickly 
delay a combat ? A dim, low murmur ran 
through the crowd. 

‘‘ The King had cast down his warder ! 

‘‘ The combat was not to take place ! ” 

“ But why not, ma tante ? ” I cried, for be- 
fore mine eyes had arisen the lists, the scaffold, 
the ten thousand knights. I saw the two lords 
armed cap-a-pie charging forward upon their 
splendid steeds, and I thought it all most stir- 
ring. Much should I have liked to have been 
one of those ladies in the party-colored robes. 

“ The King did thus command,” answered 
my aunt. 

“ And they all came thither for naught ? 
And all that splendor was but for a moment ? 
'Twas much ado for no end.” I was entirely 
disgusted. 

“ But blood was spared, my child,” said 
Tante Marianne. “You would not have use- 
less shedding of blood.” 


NORFOLK AND BOLINGBROKE in 


"" I would have had the fight,” I said stoutly. 

It seemed very foolish to me to go to all 
this trouble for nothing. I began to have 
my own opinion of the Little Queen’s King 
Richard. 

“And what then came to pass, tante ? ” I 
asked somewhat sullenly. I was on the side 
of the Duke of Norfolk, and I had hoped that 
he would slay the mean-faced Bolingbroke. 

“A knight took their spears and the lords 
returned to their chairs. The King and the 
peers debated for two long hours.” 

“ ’Twas most dull for all who had come 
thither,” I said. “ I should think, tante, that 
it would have made them dislike the King.” 

My aunt looked at me right keenly. 

“ It did, my child,” she said. “ There was 
a lack of what grown people call consistency in 
the whole affair. It seemed to the people that 
the King was not of the same mind upon a 
matter of such importance for two days at a 
time. The whole proceeding was most disas- 
trous. At the end of the two hours’ debate, 
Jacquiline, a herald cried silence. 

“ Then did Sir John Busby read from a long 


1 12 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


roll that Henry of Hereford was to be ban- 
ished for ten years from England, the Duke 
of Norfolk for life.” 

“Oh, Tante Marianne!” I cried. “I like 
the Duke of Norfolk. And pray why was he 
sent away for life ^ ” 

“ They did say that day at the tournament, 
Jacquiline, that he had sown sedition in the 
realm by his words. I knew the right or wrong 
of none of it, nor could I ever learn. I can 
but tell thee what I heard. When the judg- 
ments were read, the King commanded the two 
Dukes to stand before him. He made them 
swear that the one would never come willingly 
into the place where was the other. The lords 
took the oath most humbly. With great sad- 
ness did they then depart upon their ways. 

“ Because of the love he bore his uncle old 
John of Gaunt, the King did shorten the sen- 
tence of Bolingbroke to six years. And so 
did he tell his cousin upon his departing.” 

“And what of the Duke of Norfolk, ma 
tante ? ” I asked. I was ever true in my liking 
for those I favored. 

“ He departed to the Holy Land, my child. 


NORFOLK AND BOLINGBROKE 113 


and, returning, at Venice expired of a broken 
heart/' 

Then indeed was I grieved for the Earl 
Marshal. 

“ Was not the Little Queen sorry, my aunt?” 
I asked. 

“ She truly was much distressed, my child, 
but the King assured her of the justice of his 
sentence.” 

“ And what of Bolingbroke ? ” I asked. 

Xante Marianne was silent for a moment. Her 
face became almost stern. I felt that this lord 
had played no good part in that life in England. 

“ He, like Norfolk, went forth, and I liked 
it not, my child, that report had it that Lon- 
doners, who ever loved him, wept much at his 
going and followed him with lamentations even 
as far as Dover. With him to Dartford rode 
the Lord Mayor and citizens. As each bade 
him farewell, the banished Hereford gave him 
his badge. 

“And, Jacquiline, you shall now begin to 
understand why I like not forget-me-nots.” 

I pricked up mine ears. At last the forget- 
me-nots ! 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


114 

“ On the badge of this Bolingbroke, Jacqui- 
line, was the forget-me-not hung to the collar 
of S. S. 

“^Se Souvenir — remember/ said Boling- 
broke at parting. 

“ And even before this trouble, my child, it 
hath been said that the Duke of Lancaster had 
warned King Richard against too much trust- 
ing of this Henry his son. 

“ Three months after the departure of Here- 
ford, in the palace of Ely, died this same Duke 
of Lancaster, ’tis said of a broken heart. Much 
did he grieve over the banishment of his son. 
They called this lord ‘old John of Gaunt.' 
He was ever the best and truest friend of King 
Richard whom he did love right tenderly. 

“After his death the King grew more un- 
popular with his people. They did say things 
most hard of him. He was extravagant, in- 
capable, the tool of unworthy favorites. Time 
had failed to lull to silence the old gossip con- 
cerning the Duke of Gloucester. Some called 
the King a murderer. 

“'Twas about this time that I did overhear 
talk which much disturbed me. Passing one 


NORFOLK AND BOLINGBROKE 115 


evening through a quiet part of the palace, I 
was startled by a sound of voices. They 
came from I know not where. Perchance they 
were voices of servants at work in some room. 

‘‘ ‘ Margery,’ said one, ‘ the prophecy was 
spoken before the lord of Hereford was born. 
It declares that none of the sons of Edward 
ever shall reign, but that the crown shall come 
to the house of Lancaster. Behold how no 
son of Edward hath reigned. The Black 
Prince died before his father. And, Margery, 
my girl,’ — the voice was that of a man — 
‘ there are those who declare that the King is 
no grandson of King Edward. It hath been 
said that the real child died and in its place the 
nurses did place this Richard of Bordeaux who 
so misgoverns us.’ 

‘“And Bolingbroke is the next heir after 
the Earl of March ? ’ asked the woman’s voice. 

Nay, there is a babe, the child of Morti- 
mer, who has the throne through Edward’s sec- 
ond son, the Duke of Clarence. But when 
babes are in the way of thrones they ofttimes 
die of quick diseases.’ The speaker ended 
with an ugly laugh. 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


1 16 

‘‘ The talk did much disquiet me, and so did 
the countenance of the King. Ever did he 
look most harassed and right sad. One day 
I saw him lift the Little Queen to his knee and 
there were tears in his eyes. We all saw them. 

“‘My lord,’ said little Isabella, ‘what doth 
trouble thee ? ’ 

“ The, King made no reply, but did sit like 
one stricken with a fearful woe. For a moment 
little Isabella remained silent. Then love did 
place her arms about the neck of her lord. She 
asked no questions, but pressed her cheek close 
against his face. 

“Then did the King tell her that he had 
but that day had news of the death of his 
cousin, the heir to the throne, the Earl of 
March. He had been killed by one O’ Byrne 
in a skirmish in Ireland. 

“‘My true friend — the one loyal man of 
his time,’ said the King. The King lifted 
Isabella’s little hand. He held it in both of 
his. 

“ ‘ I have but thee, now, Isabella,’ he said, 
‘only thee.’ 

“ I think the Little Queen was right sorry 


NORFOLK AND BOLINGBROKE 117 

for the grief of her lord, but it pleased her 
most amazingly to have the King say, ‘ only 
thee.’ 

“ She did comfort him wondrously. 

“ ‘ I must be a true wife, loving and most 
grave,’ she told me that evening. ‘ Dost think 
I please my lord, good Marianne ? ’ 

‘‘ I assured her that the King did love her 
very tenderly. With that she was entirely 
happy. 

‘‘ When the King’s grief was somewhat 
assuaged, his love of his cousin called out for 
revenge. He would go to Ireland. He would 
slay the O’ Byrnes. First, however, he would 
hold a grand tournament at Windsor, and 
little Isabella, as Queen of Love and Beauty, 
should award the prizes. 

“Nothing, however, could comfort Isabella 
for the loss of the King. She — ” 

At that moment a tap at the door caused my 
aunt to pause. 

“ Enter,” she did command. 

Then in came Albret, a gay little figure in a 
new doublet of gold and hose of brown. His 
cap was of velvet, and in it was a feather fas- 


ii8 THE LITTLE QUEEN 

tened by a buckle of gems. He bore a message 
to my aunt which he did speedily deliver. 

’Twas concerning an arras for a bed, and it 
hurried my aunt forth from the room to com- 
mand Marie that it at once be sent to the 
Court. 

When Albret and I were alone, I did de- 
scribe to him the robe of the Little Queen, and 
did tell him of my arraying myself therein. 

‘ Much should I have liked to behold thee, 
Jacquiline,’ he said. Then did he look down 
most bashfully, and say : — 

“ ‘ My mistress and lady doth declare that 
thou art a pretty child and much to her liking.’ 

At that I did struggle not to be overcome 
with pride and much vanity, but I confess that 
I smiled over it full oft upon the going of 
Albret. 

Tante Marianne told me no more that 
morning saving only one speech. ’Twas 
this : — 

“ Now, Jacquiline, of all the mistakes, and 
they were not few, alas, my child, made by 
King Richard, this going to Ireland was the 
one most grievous. His throne was tottering. 


NORFOLK AND BOLINGBROKE 119 


He was needed upon every side. There was 
no heir save only a babe. But Richard's chief 
weakness throughout his whole life was that of 
loving his friends more than his kingdom." 

I thought that a fault most kindly and 
unselfish. I found myself forgiving the Little 
Queen’s Richard for stopping the tournament. 

Should we not love our friends, ma tante ? ’’ 
I asked. 

“ Not above our duty, Jacquiline," said my 
aunt. “ ’Twas not wise in King Richard. He 
was a king, and his people should have been 
the friends closest to his heart. Kings have 
no right to any nearer." 

As I played about that afternoon I thought 
of the forget-me-nots. 

As the lord who wore them had been ban- 
ished from England, why should they make 
sad my Tante Marianne? Truly, things did 
move most slowly in her story. 


CHAPTER VI 


THE PARTING AT WINDSOR 

T he following day was Sunday. There- 
fore went we forth to Mass. 

Marry, but the Church of Our Lady 
is beautiful ! 1 knelt upon the stones and said 

a prayer for my father, for my mother, for 
Henri, for Louis, for Angelique. As I knelt 
there came to me the thought that in that same 
church once had prayed the Little Queen her- 
self. Perchance, she also had marvelled at the 
beauty, at the singing, at the splendor of the 
service. 

I saw Albret at church. He was kneeling 
at some distance. He looked at me most 
openly and, regardless of his prayers, did smile 
right gayly. 

I cast down my eyes. Tante Marianne had 
told me to think only of the good God in 
church. ’Tis a hard thing to do. I wondered 


120 


THE PARTING AT WINDSOR 12 1 


if the Little Queen would have refused to smile 
back at King Richard. It made me feel most 
righteous, perchance, as the saints do feel, but 
truly I was sorry when I saw Albret look so 
hurt. 

I heard no more of the Little Queen until 
Monday. 

“’Twas in May, Jacquiline, in the year of 
our Lord 1399, that King Richard departed to 
Ireland,” so did begin my aunt. “ In that 
year, also, was born little Isabella’s sister, 
Joanna. 

“ ‘ My lord, my lord ! ’ The Little Queen 
flew to meet King Richard. ‘ The good God 
hath sent me a little sister. Our Lady de 
Coucy hath told me. Her name is Joanna.’ 

‘‘ King Richard patted her cheeks and smiled 
most teasingly. 

‘ Now, Madame,’ he said, ^ Hal can have a 
wife.’ 

‘‘ But Isabella was of a different mind. 

“ ‘ I like not any of the house of Lancaster ; ’ 
of that she was ever most positive. ‘ My sister 
shall marry none of them.’ 

“‘Well, well, Isabella,’ said the King, ‘do 


122 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


not yet distress thyself. The babe is scarce of 
the age to wed.’ 

“ ’Twas that same morning that the King 
told the Little Queen that she was to have a 
new governess. We well knew that there had 
been trouble concerning the Lady de Coucy. 

“ ’Twas all the fault of the Duchess of 
Gloucester, and had come to pass in this wise. 
Upon the death of his uncle the King had* 
brought to Windsor his aunt of Gloucester 
and his cousins, her daughters, to be com- 
pany for the Queen, he did say. 

Discord began at once. 

“ The Duchess of Gloucester bemoaned the 
death of her lord in the presence of the Queen 
saying somewhat to the disrepute of the King. 
My Lady de Coucy, as head of our household, 
reproved the Duchess. 

“ ‘ Madame,’ she said, ‘ I pray you remem- 
ber how children have ears more understand- 
ing than we think. I pray you to be more 
discreet,’ and she looked meaningly toward 
the Queen. 

“ The Duchess of Gloucester made no re- 
ply, but I did observe that she shot a glance 


THE PARTING AT WINDSOR 123 


at the Lady de Coucy, which, in the course of 
time, was to wound that lady full sore. 

“ Shortly after this the Duchess went to the 
King, and most treacherously brought to his 
notice the extravagance of the Queen’s French 
governess. There was much truth in the mat- 
ter, albeit that it was no affair of the Lady of 
Gloucester, for, at that time, my Lady de Coucy 
had eighteen horses at her command, in addi- 
tion to a long train belonging to her husband, 
and wearing his livery. Moreover, she kept 
three goldsmiths, two or three cutlers, and as 
many furriers. Also, was she building a chapel 
to cost fourteen hundred nobles. 

‘‘All this expenditure did the Duchess of 
Gloucester lay before the King, for what cause 
’tis hard to tell. Perchance she shared her 
husband’s dislike of the Little Queen, per- 
chance she wished to show her influence over 
the mind of her nephew, perchance she was 
unhappy herself and was fretted by the sight 
of so merry a lady as our dear one of St. Pol. 
I cannot tell. 

“ Whatever her motive, she did most thor- 
oughly influence the mind of the King against 


124 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


his French kinswoman. He sent for her to 
come before him, and without parley demanded 
a list of her expenditures. When he beheld 
them, he was aghast. Nevertheless, he did 
speak most kindly and did agree to pay the 
lady's debts, on condition, however, that she 
returned at once to France. 

‘‘We were plunged into grief by this sad 
news. English ladies, Jacquiline, are right 
grave. They have no laughing ways, no 
merry jests. The Lady de Coucy was the 
one gay person at Windsor, and doleful in- 
deed, would we be with only the company 
of the ladies of Gloucester. When the Lady 
de Coucy bade the Queen farewell, she did 
laugh a little meaningly. 

“‘Adieu,' said Isabella, giving her kins- 
woman her hand. 

“‘Not adieu, but au revoir,' said our Lady 
of St. Pol. ‘ Au revoir, Madame, until we 
meet again.' None knew why thus she 
spoke. Later were we to discover the wis- 
dom of the Lady of St. Pol. 

“ When we heard that the new governess 
was to be the Lady Mortimer, our spirits 


THE PARTING AT WINDSOR 125 


rose, for we had feared that it would be one 
of the house of Gloucester. The fair Eleanor 
Holland, as they were wont to call Lady 
Mortimer, was niece to the king and the 
widow of the heir to the throne, the lord 
who was slain in Ireland. Always had she 
and her husband loved Richard, and right 
joyfully did we await her arrival at Windsor. 

“We were gathered in the hall when his 
Majesty brought this new governess to the 
Castle. 

“‘Eleanor,’ — his tones were the loving ones 
he did ever use to the Hollands, — ‘I leave 
my wife that I may avenge the death of your 
husband.’ 

“ He took the hand of the Little Queen and 
put it in that of his niece. 

“ ‘ Into your hands I give that which is 
dearer to me than all the world.’ 

“ Then, indeed, did Isabella smile with happi- 
ness. That she was all the world to the King 
meant more, far more to her loving heart, than 
the splendor of sitting upon the throne as Queen 
of Love and Beauty at the King’s great tourna- 
ment. 


126 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


“ Most winsome did she look, Jacquiline, on 
that day of the jousting at Windsor, and most 
graciously did she smile upon the knights when 
they did her reverence. ’Twas at such times 
that Isabella was most charming, for she ever 
behaved with the dignity of a woman in spite 
of her childish face. 

Forty knights did take part in this tourna- 
ment. Forty squires followed them. And by 
the command of the King, — since the tourna- 
ment was for her pleasure, each who took part 
wore upon his breast the badge of the Queen, 
a snow-white falcon. 

I looked up from my work. 

“If you please, tante, what wore the Queen ? 

I had ever a concern about clothes. 

“ Most lovely did she look, Jacquiline, in a 
robe of white embroidered in silver. The 
sleeves were slashed with cloth of silver, and at 
her waist was a rare buckle of pearls. Her 
crown was of gold and had for its ornaments 
the flower of France, the fleur-de-lys. As for 
the King, he was most splendid in green velvet, 
slashed with cloth of gold, and he wore his 
crown and a splendid mantle of gold edged with 


THE PARTING AT WINDSOR 127 


ermine and fastened with a clasp of gems. By 
the saints, the affair was most splendid. Never- 
theless, there was something which did much 
disturb me and make sorry my pleasure in the 
tilting. 

Though the affair was right splendid, 
though the Little Queen, ever the favorite of 
the people, awarded the prizes, though the 
King was departing for Ireland, the attendance 
was full scant.” 

But why, ma tante ? ” I asked. Do not 
the English like tournaments ? ” 

‘‘Yes, yes, little one.” 

“ Then tell me, I pray, why came they not ? ” 

My aunt looked most serious. 

“ Because of the unpopularity of the King, 
my child. Day by day did his government 
grow more and more distasteful to the people 
he endeavored to govern. Once or twice that 
day at the tournament, amid the shouts for the 
King, the Queen, my ear caught a half-spoken 
cry, ‘ Lancaster ! Lancaster ! ' Once even did 
I think that mine ears heard a whisper of 
‘ Bolingbroke.’ 

“ Before the sport did end, I overheard a 


128 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


conversation most disturbing. The voice came 
from a spot behind me so that while I caught 
the words, I saw not the face of the speaker. 
He said somewhat about the King going to 
Ireland when most he was needed in England. 
I could not catch the answer of the second 
speaker, but I heard again the reply of the first, 
and what he said did trouble me not a little. 

‘ Souviegne vous de moy,' were the words 
I heard. 

“ I recalled the forget-me-nots in the badge 
of Lancaster and suffered my own fears. 

‘‘ Prince Hal was also at the tournament. He 
sat near the King, and his eyes, when they be- 
held the knights, glowed like those of a warrior. 
As they were leaving for the Castle, I heard the 
Little Queen say : — 

“ ‘ Hal, hast heard that we have a new sister ? ’ 

“ ^ A wife for thee, Hal ! ' cried the King. 

“ The boy laughed. 

‘ I would rather have her sister, my lord ! ’ 
he said most fearlessly. 

“ The King at this did clap him on the 
shoulder. 

‘‘ ‘ Thou art a brave boy, Hal,’ he said, ‘ but 


THE PARTING AT WINDSOR 129 


the lady having one husband hath no need for 
a second/ 

Immediately after the tournament did the 
King leave for Ireland. 

“ ‘ And a sorry matter it is that he goes/ 
said the servants about the Castle. 

“ ‘ 'Tis like him, however/ said one of them. 
‘ Richard of Bordeaux doth ever consider his 
own feelings before the good of his kingdom.’ 

“ ‘ Peace,’ cried another, ‘ your head will be 
in danger with such heedless talk. Does not 
the King go to avenge the death of the heir ? ’ 

“ ^ There are other heirs,’ said the first 
speaker. 

He was a man who had charge of the 
armory. 

‘‘As he spake, he laid his broad forefinger 
most warningly upon his lips. 

“ ‘ Let Richard of Bordeaux remember,’ he 
added with a shrug of his shoulders, a lift of 
his eyebrows. 

“ I heard no more, but there again was that 
word ‘ remember.’ I liked not the look of 
the man. He appeared to be possessed of 
secret knowledge. 


130 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


‘‘*Twas upon a May morning that the King 
left for Ireland. The air was fresh and clear. 
Everywhere in the tender green grass were the 
daisies, the buttercups, the forget-me-nots, the 
primroses. The gorse was yellow, and upon 
its spiky limbs the little birds did perch and 
carol right merrily. 

“ The Court attended Mass in the chapel, 
the King himself taking part in the service and 
making a rich offering. He was possessed of 
an almost heavenly voice, and we heard it for 
the last time in the chanting of a Collect that 
morn at Windsor. 

‘‘ After the service we paused at the door of 
the church. 

“ How you, little Jacquiline, who so love 
flowers, would rejoice in the beauty of an Eng- 
lish May morning ! I would that you could 
behold the gold of the gorse and hear the song 
of the skylark as he mounts high upon the 
wing. 

At the door a page appeared with a comfit 
box, and the King served the Queen, and then 
partook of its contents himself. 

‘^The time for parting was at hand. He 


THE PARTING AT WINDSOR 13 1 


held Isabella at arm’s length and gazed at her 
most fondly. 

She had grown quite tall, and was more 
lovely than when we left France. The Eng- 
lish air had blown roses in her once too pale 
cheeks. In her robe of white she was a lovely 
child. 

“ Never, Jacquiline, shall I forget the pic- 
ture they made that May morning at Windsor 
— the gentle-faced king, with his sensitive face 
and golden hair, the lovely child, with her big 
brown eyes, holding fast to his hand. There 
was great love between them. I stood watch- 
ing their beauty as one in a dream, and it 
pleased me much to see my lord the King so 
love a little child. ’Twas a dream of short 
length, for Simonette pulled suddenly at my 
sleeve. ^ 

‘‘‘’Tis a bad omen,’ she said, her face full 
of meaning. 

“ All I saw were some children, rosy cheeked, 
and smiling somewhat timidly because of the 
honor, strewing flowers before the Little 
Queen. 

Simonette pointed to the feet of the King. 


132 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


There lay naught of the flowers but blue for- 
get-me-nots. 

Henry of Lancaster!’ whispered Simon- 
ette, looking as if she knew more than she 
meant to say. ‘ Dost recall “ Souviegne vous 
de moy,” remember me ? ’Tis now the mean- 
ing of that flower all over England.’ 

“ I answered crossly. 

“ ‘ I am not likely to forget the King.’ I 
made pretence of knowing naught of the 
rumors. ‘ As for Henry of Hereford, I have 
no wish to remember his ugly face.’ 

‘‘’Twas because of my secret fears that I 
spake so crossly ; for in spite of my brave 
words, Jacquiline, I must tell thee that never, 
in those days, did I behold that little flower of 
blue, and fail to see before mine eyes the face 
whose lips seemed ever repeating, ‘ Souviegne 
vous de moy,’ remember me, remember 
me. 

‘‘ But the day upon which the King departed 
was most jocund, and the voices of the little 
birds did sing of joy, not sorrow. 

‘‘ When the King had served with a cup of 
wine the Little Queen, he did drink himself. 




HE HAD KNELT ON ONE KNEE AND KISSED HER HAND 








r » _ . . 4-, ^ x^ •• ^wmBIFT^’ ^Sir ^ ’s^mCV'^V'W 

* .'•^ •* • •»» ' /. 'f?i CViJBB'^kW « A » W» V JTfc-*. J < 


•r 


■AC 






• /* 


f- » 










» 




<7 


iri"' 


Xa‘ 


> ' ‘*«'.^ ^fV,-; '• « ' • ,-i*'''*» .}> i'. , 

k^4',^ji! ■-•. 'MiH «■ 

Ml 


•.< 


•j 


■ I 




ryrM, 

ASi 




oi 


(uS 





* 


^ ,.>r; 


• v" 


. h 4 

u 


A ',' 


* 


r 




‘i«ft 4 r -4 ^ >iay— ^ 



M ‘''V i, , ^ ■ .. 




^ * 


iHli'lti-'''' 

4 ^ • 1 ^ 




3©>'' ’,- .Vv 


!tSi 


A • ^ 

''/V 




Jf 



‘ • .T ij , 'f*. - 

|kfjBll4’A.*t^ r • '-A. ^>'V* jfj '^j- - •:»’'"* i?nE • ■ t - 

s.®W^SV>:iv!>--: .-: -.iit' iJ!? - ■" • 


' ■' 


2 . 












-r.- 







■<.R' 





,VVi ' ■ v*, X, , \ 

. fMH 4 : v> ***^ 

KklP^t 1 ' 4.. . 7% *’ • * 


* 

-Ml 




1 * 7 ^; ■r....;.v,W«- • ;’ ^ s 

‘ • 4 ^ • * A ‘ 'i ' « tJ 7 

^ **■ r 7'*'. . ? ;--'a*^ .s-fmj<-' 

. .A ^ 

■ 1 • 


"WzM 


V 


« » 





•■ ft’ ’■•.i V 

•/f A .. ^r," . ’ 

TOfiwiy.* . • .«*V 


.< «j 


-•' • 


r ^ 


,•» 


m^ii»pww*s» <ikx 1 ^ |. r ••^ ^ Vf ^ ■ a. t i _ -r/ 

* ty jjjf ^ ^ **- 7 *X * *’’ ■* fcf^__ 






?.Cv j iV ■ ■, , , 




} . ^ 


' tl 




yw^. 




\k^\f a 
Lit V<^, 








-If, 


?4k^ 











THE PARTING AT WINDSOR 133 


Then he took her in his arms. He kissed her 
again and again. 

“ ‘ Adieu, Madame, adieu,’ he said, ^ adieu 
until we meet again.’ 

“ Little Isabella clung to him, and was loath 
to loosen her arms from about his neck, but 
the King did gently put her down. 

“Then pushed forward Hal of Mon- 
mouth. He was to go to Ireland with his 
cousin the King. He stood before the 
Queen. 

Fair cousin and Madame,’ he said, for all 
the world like a grown knight, ‘ I would kiss 
thy hand.’ 

“ She stretched forth her dimpled fingers. 
He had knelt on one knee and kissed her 
hand like a man. 

“ ‘ Adieu, Madame,’ he said in his own 
brave way. 

“ I liked the boy in spite of his father. 

Farewell, Hal,’ said the Queen. 

“Then turned she to the King, her eyes 
a’brim with tears, her mouth a’tremble. 

“He kissed her again. Then he sprang to 
his horse which had been brought for his 


134 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


mounting, and in a few moments the King 
had departed forever from Windsor.” 

‘‘Was the King killed in Ireland, ma tante?” 
I asked. 

Tante Marianne shook her head. 

“Nay,” — her voice was most sorrowful. 
“It would have been far happier had he so 
died. In order that you may understand what 
came to pass, Jacquiline, I must now relate 
somewhat of Henry of Lancaster. The his- 
tory of kings is much complicated. Being 
banished from England, he repaired to the 
Court of France. There was he well received, 
and he took up his residence in the Hotel de 
Winchester. The father of the Little Queen 
was at that time insane. His brothers wel- 
comed Bolingbroke, the Duke of Berri offering 
him his daughter Marie for a wife. News of 
this matter travelling to England, Richard sent 
the Earl of Salisbury to Paris to forbid the 
marriage. Why the King did this no man has 
ever known. The Earl of Salisbury accused 
Henry of being a traitor. The King of France, 
recovered of his malady, declared that his son 
in England had too great a hatred of Lancaster, 


THE PARTING AT WINDSOR 135 

and paid no heed to the warning. The Duke 
of Berri, however, heeding Salisbury, refused to 
consider the matter of the marriage. 

‘ Cousin Derby,’ he said to Henry, ‘ we 
may not give our daughter in marriage to a 
traitor.’ 

heard all this, Jacquiline, when again I 
came to France. 

‘‘ Henry in wrath demanded who had called 
him a traitor. 

“ ^ The King of England,’ answered the 
Duke. 

Then was Henry wroth. He declared 
that he had been banished for brawling and not 
for treachery. At once did he send to England 
by a knight to crave permission of his father 
— the Duke of Lancaster had not yet died — 
to join in an expedition against the Turks. 
His father advised him not to make so distant 
a journey, but to visit his sisters in Spain and 
Portugal. 

“ Immediately after did old John of Gaunt 
expire. The King of England sent no message 
to his cousin of the death of his father, but 
only announced it officially to the King of 


136 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


France. The Duchy of Lancaster he retained 
as his own property, an act which did greatly 
enrage the Londoners, since they ever loved 
this Bolingbroke. Why, Jacquiline, I, for 
one, cannot tell thee. From the time of the 
death of the Duke of Lancaster the name of 
his son began to be whispered secretly. In 
time the discontent grew to a rumbling sound. 
‘ Souviegne vous de moy,’ was oft on the Lon- 
doners’ lips. 

“ Never in this world shall any of us know 
the right and wrong of the quarrel between 
these two cousins. As boys they had oft disa- 
greed. The gentle Richard was ever forgiving 
his cousin, and the old Duke of Lancaster 
warned him more than once against too far 
trusting him. 

“ Once the Duke would have put his son to 
death for some treachery had not the King 
ridden all night to stay his hand. The old 
Duke, who most tenderly loved Richard, lent 
an ear to his pleading and did deliver Henry 
to the mercy of his gentle heart. The King 
at once forgave him. 

“Another time, Henry drew his sword upon 


THE PARTING AT WINDSOR 137 

the King in the room of Queen Anne. A third 
time did the King forgive him when he joined 
in a plot to murder his Majesty, the old 
Duke and all the King's Council. There 
were two sides to the question, Jacquiline, you 
see. 

“ I loved the King. I hated Bolingbroke. 
'Twas not hard for me to decide which I 
thought in the right. Let them of uncertain 
mind gaze upon the two faces. There are 
portraits in London town. Let each decide 
for himself. 

‘‘Now, little one, we must leave Henry, 
who betook himself to the Court of the Duke 
of Brittany, and return to Windsor. I would 
waste no words upon traitors. 

“ The warm sun ripened spring into summer. 
The birds sang June into July. On the bushes 
the nuts began to form in their coats of green. 
The air by the river was pungent with the 
sweetness of the mint, and oft went Simonette 
and I thither to gather it to strew amid the 
rushes on the floor. Our life went on most 
pleasantly. We heard no more of the discon- 
tent of the people, and we comforted our lone- 


138 THE LITTLE QUEEN 

liness by the hope that the King would tarry 
but shortly in Ireland. 

‘‘ Though the Little Queen did grieve most 
piteously for her lord, her bravery was pretty 
to see. 

‘ The wife of a King must be full of cour- 
age,' she said one day to her cousin Eleanor. 
‘ I did promise my lord that I would be a 
little woman and not too much grieve over his 
absence.' 

“ But we who loved her saw that in spite 
of her words her little heart did ache right 
piteously. 

“ ‘ I have no mother, no father,' she said 
once to me at night time. ‘ They did take 
me from them, and now, Marianne, I do long 
for the King.' 

“ But she would suffer no one to pity her. 
Then, indeed, did she become the Queen. 
She was twelve now and growing daily in 
womanliness and beauty. 

‘‘As for Simonette and me, Jacquiline, we 
were no longer girls, but women nearing a 
score of years, for four summers had passed 
their way since that All Saints' Day when the 


THE PARTING AT WINDSOR 139 


Little Queen did marry King Richard at 
Calais. 

“We were dwelling most peacefully at 
Windsor, and the sky of our living, blue, its 
only cloud the absence of the King. 

“ But one day came the storm. Simonette 
and I were peacefully gaining the mint by a 
stream when the blast of a horn sounded upon 
the peaceful summer air. England, my child, 
seems from its stillness, to be a land made 
only for peace, and a noise doth ever startle 
one. A second time sounded the horn. We 
knew that it was a royal messenger, and, wish- 
ing to hear the news, we hurried toward the 
Castle. Alack, alas, my child, the tidings 
were most grievous. 

“We gathered in the great hall about the 
Little Queen. She was only a child and now, 
indeed, was she to feel the pressing of a crown. 
Henry of Lancaster, attended by the deposed 
Archbishop of Canterbury, traitor that he was, 
had landed in England. Sixty thousand men had 
flocked to his banners, and even while the mes- 
senger talked, this army was marching toward 
London to seize the throne for Bolingbroke. 


140 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


“ The Regent, the Duke of York, uncle to 
King Richard, had sent the messenger to the 
Queen, and he did further announce that the 
Londoners were wild to receive Henry. The 
King’s favorites had fled to Bristol. He him- 
self, with a strong following, would at once 
go forth to meet the King when he should 
arrive from Ireland. 

‘‘ ‘ But Madame, Madame,’ cried Lady 
Mortimer, wringing her hands, ‘ What folly ! 
Then doth he leave the way open from the 
North. Henry will advance upon London.’ 

“ The messenger did look most doleful. 
’Twas easy to see that he was of the same 
mind as Lady Mortimer. Richard, he said, 
was believed to have landed in Wales, but 
of that he could speak with no certainty. 

‘‘We longed to believe it true for much 
did the Welsh love King Richard. Oft had 
our lord told us of the loyalty of a Welsh 
chief, one Owen Glendower. 

“ As for the Court at Windsor, the Regent 
declared it as not safe. At once were we to 
march to a place called Wallingford, a fortress 
strong and better defended. 


THE PARTING AT WINDSOR 14 1 


I tell you this quietly, Jacquiline, but 
there was no quiet that day at Windsor. 
We knew what war meant, and we knew that 
our lives were at the mercy of a traitor. And 
the day had been so beautiful. It had taken 
but a brief moment to turn- our peace into 
wild and fearful confusion, and fierce burned 
our loyalty to our lord the King, and deep 
was our hatred of Henry. 

‘‘ ‘ Down with the traitor, down with Boling- 
broke ! ’ cried Simonette ; making ready the 
garments of the Queen.” 

Tante Marianne,” I cried, “ I pray you 
tell me, did King Richard lose England ? 
Much do I hate him of Lancaster.” 

Now, indeed, did I understand about the 
forget-me-nots. But I meant not to let them 
remind me of false Bolingbroke. Whenever 
I should behold their blueness, they should 
now bring to my mind the picture of the King 
and the Little Queen upon the May morning 
at Windsor. 

Tante Marianne smiled at my vigor. 

“ So also did we hate him of Bolingbroke, 
Jacquiline, and with cause, my child. We 


142 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


knew that with his coming our heads sat not 
too securely upon our necks. When we 
lodged in the Tower we saw a man beheaded. 
'Twas by chance, but it made us most anxious 
for the safety of our necks. We could hope 
for no aid from France, for Monsieur the 
King was again out of his wits. The Court 
was in confusion, and Madame the Queen 
had no thought for aught but her own 
pleasure. 

‘‘ ’Twas with sad faces and heavy hearts that 
we began the march toward Wallingford.” 

My aunt paused. 

‘‘Tante Marianne,” I asked, “I pray you 
tell me if King Richard lost his crown ? ” 

‘‘ Wait, my child, wait,” said Tante Mari- 
anne. “In time you shall hear it all. I have 
talked enough for to-day. I shall only say to 
you that the King of England without doubt 
brought much of his trouble upon himself. 
Dearly as I loved him, I could not but see the 
truth. He would not take a wife of his own 
age because he so deeply mourned Queen 
Anne. He went to Ireland to avenge the 
death of his friend when he should have con- 


THE PARTING AT WINDSOR 143 

sidered his subjects and remained in England. 
'Tis well to have a tender heart, Jacquiline, 
but it is also well to govern this tenderness.” 

“Yes, my aunt,” I said, but ’twas with scant 
heed. I was thinking of the Little Queen. 
How doleful it must have been far away from 
her father, her mother, from France, alone 
among such cruel strangers. 

I ceased from my work. I put away my 
frame. I went to the credence and brought 
Tante Marianne the Missal. Then I sat at 
her feet while she instructed me from its 
pages, and I did ask that she teach me the 
Collect which King Richard chanted in the 
church at Windsor. 1 wondered if Albret 
could sing. I felt that I should be right sad 
when the day should come for him to depart 
from the Court to the wars. 

“Jacquiline,” came the voice of Tante Mari- 
anne. “ Lend thine ears more closely to 
my teaching. Repeat now the words of the 
Collect.” 


CHAPTER VII 


SWEET RICHARD 

O N the following morning Tante Mari- 
anne told me to array myself to go 
forth with her to make purchases. 

In those days the streets of Paris were far 
from clean. Therefore were we borne to the 
Grande Boucherie in a litter. The city was 
very wonderful to my country eyes. Every- 
where, journeying from door to door, were 
sellers of bread, meal, cheese, milk, butter, 
honey, poultry, vegetables, oils and spices, 
fish, meat, fresh or salted, chestnuts from 
Lombardy, figs from Malta. Some carried 
their wares in baskets on their arms. Others 
placed them in panniers thrown over a donkey. 
All did cry most noisily. 

At times Tante Marianne bought from the 
sellers at her door. Sometimes, since the best 
provisions were to be had in special places, she 

144 


“SWEET RICHARD” 


145 


betook herself to the different markets for flesh 
or fish. 

On the morning when I accompanied her, 
we went first to the fish-market, then to the 
Grande Boucherie where Tante Marianne made 
a selection of choice meat. Marry, but there 
was much noise, the fish people rushing to and 
fro, the customers shouting. Tante Marianne 
told me how the stalls in these markets descend 
from father to son. 

On our way home we paused to purchase a 
pigeon pie, a baked meat, and a most appetiz- 
ing pate. 

Tante Marianne’s kitchen was to her a mat- 
ter of immense pride. Ofttimes were guests 
led thither to admire its appointments. I was 
much afraid of the master cook as he sat 
perched upon his high stool near the great 
chimney directing the scullions and inventing 
the dishes which made the table of my rich 
Tante Marianne somewhat famous. 

As we passed through a street not far from 
home, I caught sight of a familiar little figure. 

“Tante Marianne,” said I, “if you please, 
there is Albret.” 


146 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


My aunt commanded the litter to be stopped. 
She called to Albret. 

At once did he come to her side. His face 
was eager with a message. 

My aunt quickly touched her lips with her 
fingers. She alighted from the litter and drew 
Albret aside. He delivered his message in 
tones too low for me to hear. Of course I 
knew that I had no right to hear my aunt's 
secrets, but it does make one feel very left out 
to have two whispering together when there 
are but three in the company. Albret pres- 
ently, with a wave of his cap, departed without 
even a glance at the litter wherein I sat. 

'Twas not church. He was free now to 
smile at me all that he liked. I was not much 
pleased that he glanced not my way, for I had 
been wondering if he would one day marry me 
as King Richard had wed the Little Queen. 

I fear that I heard not many of the words 
of Tante Marianne after she returned to the 
litter. I was thinking that had Albret not 
treated me with such scorn, I should have 
chosen for a wedding-gown a robe of white 
and silver cut in the fashion of the one of 


SWEET RICHARD ’’ 147 

the Little Queen. Tante Marianne’s voice 
did recall me. 

And, Jacquiline,” she was saying, “ remem- 
ber to put thy whole mind upon whatever thou 
art doing.” 

“ Yes, dear aunt,” I said. 

I went on with my thoughts. If I should 
wed Albret, we should live in a palace and — 

But here we reached home. 

On the morrow Tante Marianne continued 
the story. 

“At Wallingford,” she began, “the days 
passed in dreariness and anxiety. The Little 
Queen grew pale and thin. She missed the 
King most grievously, and suspense was mak- 
ing her into a woman. Then one day came 
news most terrible.” 

“ What was it, tante ? ” I asked. 

“’Twas the worst we could hear, my child. 
King Richard had lost England ! ” 

“ Oh, my aunt ! ” I cried, forgetting entirely 
my stitches. 

“Yes, Jacquiline, the Regent sent us the 
dreadful news ; but the messenger knew naught 
of the details. 


148 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


As for us we knew not what dreadful fate 
awaited us. There are those, my child, who 
may grow hardened to the thought of death, 
but I am not one. Every night I knelt by 
the bedside of the Little Queen and prayed 
the good God to save us if only until 
morning. 

“My child, I pray the saints that you may 
never know such horror as we felt during those 
days and nights at Wallingford. We were 
French, remember. For that alone were we 
in danger in England. We started at every 
noise. Our nights, our days were hours of 
terror. We longed for news, but none came. 
'Tis a fearful thing, Jacquiline, to be helpless 
women, shut up in a castle in times of war. 

“ At last one evening there came to our 
doors a minstrel craving shelter. At once was 
he admitted, and we gathered in the hall re- 
joiced to have a break in our frightened lives. 
Perchance he knew news of the war. 

“ He touched his lute and sang a Welsh 
song, sweet and most tender. The Queen, 
forgetting her woes in the charm of the music, 
did inquire the name of so sweet a melody. 


‘‘SWEET RICHARD” 


149 


“The minstrel made answer to her most 
humbly, but he did glance at me with a 
queer lift of his eye, and straightway knew I 
he brought news. 

“ ‘ Madame,’ he said, " ’tis the ballad of 
“ Sweet Richard.” ^ ’Tis writ by a brave 
Welshman called Owen Glendower.’ 

“I recall these words, Jacquiline : — 

“ ‘ A mighty warrior from the north. 

So Moslem records tell. 

In all the pride of pow’r went forth, 

The infidel to quell. 

“ ‘ His lofty crest seemed to defy 
Aught peril to be nigh 
As far across the spreading plain, 

Loud came his battle-cry, 

“ Strike down the foe, my fellow-men. 

We fight for God on high.” 

^ There seems to be some discussion concerning this bal- 
lad. Miss Agnes Strickland declares it to have been written 
by Owen Glendower in honor of Richard II. In the ** Songs 
of Wales (Boosey & Co., London), the ballad is said to be 
the one sung by Blondel under the window of the castle 
wherein was confined Richard I. Miss Strickland further de- 
clares it to have been used to animate the armies during the 
reign of Richard II, and for years after while he was still be- 
lieved to be alive. 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


150 

Unconquered is the valiant sword, 

Although aside ’twas laid, 

When by the traitor’s treacherous sword. 

The warrior was betrayed. 

His noble heart may still defy. 

Aught peril to be nigh. 

“‘For soon there shall resound again. 

That sacred battle-cry, 

“ Strike down the foe, my fellow-men. 

Ye fight for God on high.” ’ 

“As the minstrel passed from the hall that 
night I drew him aside. 

“ ‘ Know you aught of King Richard ? * I 
asked. ‘ I pray you, good minstrel, to relieve 
our suspense.' 

“ He touched his lips with his fingers. Then 
he besought me in low tone to get him secret 
audience of the Queen. He came direct from 
the King. To prove that he spoke true he 
brought forth from under his cloak a letter. 

“‘For Madame, Queen Isabella,' he said, 
and passed it into my keeping. 

“ I gave it to her Majesty that night. 

“ 'Twas writ most clearly, and the Little 
Queen herself did summon her clerk and he 


“SWEET RICHARD” 


151 

read it aloud in my hearing. In times of 
danger, Jacquiline, our senses seem to brighten. 
Therefore doth my memory recall the words of 
that letter to which I did hearken so intently. 
I recall that it was writ somewhat in this 
fashion : — 

“ ‘ My mistress and my consort ! Accursed 
be the man who thus separateth us ! I am 
dying of grief because of it. My fair sister, 
my lady, and my sole desire, since I am robbed 
of the pleasure of beholding you, then such 
pain and affliction oppresseth my whole heart 
that I am ofttimes near despair. Alas, Isa- 
bella! rightful daughter of France 1 you were 
wont to be my joy, my hope, my consolation 1 
And now I plainly see that through the vio- 
lence of fortune, which hath slain many a man, 
I must be deprived of you, whereat I often en- 
dure so sincere a pang that day and night I am 
in danger of bitter death. And it is no marvel, 
when I from such a height have fallen so low, 
and lose my joy, my solace, and my consort.’ ” 

‘‘ Oh, Tante Marianne, how beautiful 1 ” I 
cried, thinking how much I should like Albret 
to write me such a letter. 


152 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


“Yes/* Tante Marianne did speak a little 
coldly. “ It was beautiful. The Little Queen 
kissed it again and again, and pressed it close 
to her heart. But for myself, Jacquiline, I 
thought it would have been more useful if 
the King had told us where he was and what 
efforts he would make to save us.*’ 

I did not like this. To me the letter was 
so beautiful that I thought it perfect. I cer- 
tainly meant to learn it and to repeat it to 
Albret, when next he should come. 

“The next morning after the arrival of 
the minstrel,** went on Tante Marianne, “the 
Little Queen repaired to the chapel. She 
was attended only by me, and she gave it out 
that she would be alone that she might offer 
prayers for the safety of the King. We 
found the minstrel there before us, according 
to the command of the Queen, which 1 had 
secretly conveyed to him. Isabella at once 
commanded him to tell all that he knew con- 
cerning the King. 

“ ‘ But first, good minstrel,* she cried, ‘ is he 
safe ? Is the King alive ? * 

“ ‘ He is, Madame,* replied the minstrel. 


“SWEET RICHARD 


153 


“ Then did he tell us a long and cruel story. 
The King, he said, had not been able at once 
to come from Ireland. The army in Wales, 
thinking him at sea, melted away, the men re- 
turning to their homes. At length, six weeks 
after he had heard the news, did the King land 
in Wales. Finding no army, he wandered 
from castle to castle. Oft was he forced to 
sleep upon straw, to suffer from hunger. His 
one comfort was the loyalty of the wild rough 
Welsh. 

“ In the mean season, Harry of Hereford 
was gathering forces. They flocked to his 
banners crying : ‘ Welcome, long desired Earl 
of Derby and Lancaster! Joy and luck go 
with you. Nothing has gone well since you 
went away ! * 

‘‘ ‘ How dared they!' cried the Little Queen, 
and she quivered with anger. ‘ But proceed, 
good friend, proceed.' 

“ The minstrel then told us of how they shut 
up their shops, doing no more work but only 
following Henry of Lancaster. The Regent 
set forth to meet Richard. 

“Alack, alas, he first encountered Boling- 


154 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


broke. Why fight against one nephew for 
another ^ He tore off the badge of the white 
hart. He put on the swan and the antelope. 
When we heard that the Regent had deserted, 
then indeed did our hopes die. Were we then 
not in the hands of the enemy even at that 
moment while the minstrel spoke ? 

“When her grief was somewhat spent, ,he 
told us of how, wandering in Wales, he had 
chanced upon the King. He made a show of 
his loyalty, and Richard then told him all which 
had happened in Ireland. Of how the news 
was six weeks old before it came to his ears, of 
how when he had heard it, he had cried ; — 

“^Ah, fair uncle of Lancaster, Heaven re- 
ward your soul ! Had I believed you, then this 
man would not have injured me ! Thrice have 
I pardoned him ; this is his fourth offence.’ 

“ Then did he send for Henry, son of Bol- 
ingbroke. 

“‘What said Hal?’ asked little Isabella, 
her little face white with sorrow. 

“ ‘ Madame,’ answered the minstrel, ‘thy lord 
the King did exactly repeat his words. He is 
a little eaglet for courage, Madame.’ 


“SWEET RICHARD” 


155 


‘‘ The Queen frowned. 

“ ‘ Good minstrel/ she said, ‘ proceed. I 
desire no praise of any of the house of Lan- 
caster. What said Hal ? ' 

‘ When our lord the King had most gently 
told him the news of his father's treachery, he 
added : “ Harry, my child, see what thy father 
hath done to me. He hath invaded my land 
as an enemy, taken captive and put to death 
my liege subjects without mercy or pity. 
Indeed, child, I grieve for thee because of this 
unhappy proceeding of your father, you may 
perchance lose your inheritance." In truth, 
my lord and cousin," answered Hal, “ I am 
sincerely sorry for these tidings, and I trust 
you are fully assured of my innocence." ' 

“ I thought, Jacquiline, the boy spoke well. 
But then I was ever fond of the lad. He had 
been delicate at Windsor, and oft had I given 
him doses and had him in my care. 

“ But to return to the tale of the minstrel. 
King Richard confined Hal in a castle. He 
then set forth for Wales. If he had arrived 
sooner, all would have gone well, but, alas, too 
long he tarried in Ireland. After wandering 


156 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


about for some time, the King and the minstrel 
did come to Conway Castle, and there did he 
find the Lord of Salisbury. 

“ ‘ Oh, sire,’ he cried, ‘ I had got forty thou- 
sand Welsh and Cheshire men together, but as 
they declared you dead they left me alone. 
Little did he love you who detained you so 
long in Ireland. All is lost ! ’ 

‘‘ The King raised his mild eyes to Heaven, 
so said the minstrel. 

“ ‘ Glorious and merciful God,’ he said, 
‘ with folded hands I implore thy mercy. Suf- 
fer me not to lose my country and my life 
through these perfidious and envious traitors. 
Alas, I know not what they would require of 
me. According to my ability I have desired 
to obtain mercy and justice. The Sovereign 
King, who sitteth above and seeth afar, I call 
to witness that my sad heart could wish that 
all men could know my thoughts and my 
desires. If I have been unvarying in obtain- 
ing right, reason demands it. A king should 
be firm and steady in the punishment of the 
bad, and in upholding truth. Alas, because 
I have followed the righteous course as far as 


“SWEET RICHARD 


157 


I have been able for three — nay, for eight 
or ten years past — the people throw this 
trouble upon me. O God of Glory ! As I 
never consented to bring evil upon any one 
who did not deserve it, be pleased to have 
mercy upon me, for unless thou wilt deign 
speedily to regard me, I am utterly lost.* 

“ When the minstrel so slowly repeated these 
words there in the silent chapel, the Little 
Queen did weep most bitterly. And likewise 
did I,** added Tante Marianne. “ I could see 
that gentle face and hear those meek tones 
of faith and supplication.*’ 

I was somewhat impatient. I thought the 
King should be about fighting, but I held 
my peace since Tante Marianne considered it 
so seemly. 

“ The minstrel told little more,** added my 
aunt. “‘The King,* he declared, ‘had sent his 
brothers. Sir John and Sir Thomas Holland 
to the traitor to endeavor to make terms, but 
they returned not, being held prisoners by 
Bolingbroke.* 

“ ‘ The only joy in the news was that Owen 
Glendower was rallying the Welsh. He had 


158 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


written the song of “ Sweet Richard,” and in 
all the fastnesses, Madame, were they singing 
it.’ 

“ The Little Queen did command the min- 
strel to teach her the words of the song, and 
she did repeat it over and over until she knew 
it most perfectly. That day did the minstrel 
depart, promising to return when again he 
could bring us news from the King.” 

My aunt paused. 

“ Let me examine your work, Jacquiline.” 

She looked at it carefully. 

“ ’Tis well done, my child,” she said. 

Then she stepped to the neighboring room 
and returned with the comfit box. 

She served me and then herself, and I heard 
no more that morning. 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE SECOND VISIT OF THE MINSTREL 

A LBRET did not appear on the morrow. 

The rain fell most heavily, and 
Tante Marianne declared that the streets 
must be well-nigh impassable. Tante Mari- 
anne said that she would at once begin the 
story. Perchance the day might not seem so 
dull. 

“ One day, little one,’' she said, the min- 
strel returned to the castle. Again he sang 
‘ Sweet Richard ’ in the hall, and again we met 
him in the chapel. Then in its stillness he 
told us the story of Math. Of the greyhound, 
Jacquiline, which did so pretend to love the 
King. Of all the sorrows of King Richard 
of England, there is none which seemeth to 
me so cruel as the perfidy of Math. But first 
must I begin at the beginning. 

^^The Earl of Northumberland, Jacquiline, 
with five attendants, came to Conway, where 
159 


i6o THE LITTLE QUEEN 

lay the King. A herald at once demanded 
admission. The King gave him audience and 
received from his hands a letter which he de- 
clared was from Sir John Holland. Therein 
were words which advised the King to trust 
the bearer, the Earl of Northumberland, who 
thereon set before the King certain terms offered 
by Bolingbroke. 

“ ‘ Bring hither the Holy Eucharist,’ he 
cried ; ‘ upon it, my lord and King, shall I 
swear to keep faith.’ 

“ Richard retired to consult with his coun- 
sellors. 

“‘Fair sirs,’ cried the King, ‘we will grant 
it. But I swear whatever pledge I give him, 
he shall die a bitter death. Doubt it not, no 
Parliament shall be held at Westminster. I 
will send to assemble the Welsh, and some day 
we shall have the power. There are some of 
them whom I will flay alive. I would not 
take all the gold in the land for them if I con- 
tinue alive and well.’ 

“ The King, in agreeing to the terms, took 
no oath, but the Lord of Northumberland 
swore upon the Holy Eucharist to be true. 


SECOND VISIT OF THE MINSTREL i6i 


‘‘ Said Richard to him : — 

“ ‘ I trust to your faith. Remember your 
oath, and Him who heard it.’ 

Then did Richard quit Conway, and ride 
toward Rhuddlan, where Northumberland had 
hidden his army. They came to a steep slope, 
to the left of which was the sea, and to the 
right a lofty rock overhanging the road. The 
King dismounted. He climbed the steep path 
on foot. 

“ Suddenly he cried out : — 

“ ‘ I am betrayed ! Do you not see the 
banners and pennons in the valley ? ’ 

“ The words were but out his mouth when 
up rode Northumberland and eleven knights 
in armor. 

^ Earl,’ said the King, ^ if I thought you 
capable of treason, it is not too late to turn 
back.’ 

“Then did Northumberland throw off 
pretence. 

“ ‘ You cannot return,’ he said, ^ I have 
promised to carry you to the Duke of 
Lancaster.’ 

“ Thereupon, the minstrel told us — it seems 

M 


i 62 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


he had followed the King — appeared two hun- 
dred archers who straightway surrounded our 
lord. Then did Richard look false Northum- 
berland full in the face. 

“ ^ May He upon whom you laid your hands 
reward you at the last day/ he said. 

Thus was the King taken captive. They 
bore him to Flint Castle, and then again did 
the minstrel see him — he found entrance be- 
cause of his music — and heard him bemoan his 
fate in that he had been too kind to the men 
who thus had betrayed him. He was in terror, 
also, over the fate of the Little Queen, who was 
never much out of his thoughts. 

At this did Isabella smile most piteously. 

‘ ’Tis comfort that my lord doth love me,' 
she said. 

“ The minstrel told of how when the King 
came to Flint Castle, out had come false 
Bolingbroke. 

‘‘‘Fair cousin of Lancaster,' said the King, 
doffing his cap, ‘ you are welcome.' 

“ ‘ My lord,' answered his cousin, ‘ I have 
returned before you sent for me. I will set 
before you the cause. Your people complain 


SECOND VISIT OF THE MINSTREL 163 

that for the space of twenty, or one and twenty 
years, you have ruled them harshly ; but, please 
God, I will help you to rule them better.* 

‘‘ ‘ Fair cousin,’ said the King, ‘ since it pleas- 
eth you, it pleaseth us well.* ** 

‘‘But, Tante Marianne,** I cried, “surely it 
did not please the King. Why did he thus 
speak ? ** 

My aunt shook her head. 

“I know not; I must confess, my child, 
that I, too, have wondered concerning the mat- 
ter. The minstrel may have been mistaken, 
but such he repeated as the words of the King, 
and thus are they written in the chronicle. 

“ Immediately after this speech, Jacquiline, 
came to pass that which did well-nigh break 
the heart of King Richard. 

“ His voice reached the stables. Math, who 
there did live, heard the familiar sound, and 
with a bound and a run he rushed to where 
stood Henry and the King. When Richard 
beheld him, a smile lighted into joy his poor 
troubled face. 

“ ‘ My own true friend,* he said. 

“ He held out his hand. 


164 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


“ The dog paused. His body trembled. 
He sniffed the air. He gazed from Henry of 
Lancaster to Richard of Bordeaux. His long, 
lithe body quivered with excitement. Then 
suddenly did he spring at Henry of Lancaster, 
and putting both paws upon his shoulders, 
begin to caress him most rapturously. 

“ When the minstrel told this to the Little 
Queen, she wept most piteously. 

“‘My lord, my dear lord,' she said. 

“There are those who say, Jacquiline, that 
dogs are more faithful than men. This, per- 
chance, is true, but I say there is but one true 
thing in all the world, the heart of a little 
child.” 

“ What said the King, rhy aunt ? ” I 
asked. 

“‘First was the traitor most astonished,' said 
the minstrel. 

“ ‘ What meaneth this, my lord ? ' he asked, 
turning to Richard. 

“ ‘ Cousin,' answered the King, ‘ it means a 
great deal for you and very little for me. The 
natural instinct of the creature perceives which 
side has the ascendency. Keep him by your 


SECOND VISIT OF THE MINSTREL 165 


side for, lo, he leaveth me and will ever follow 
you/ 

‘‘ ‘ And three thousand men,’ added the 
minstrel, ^ beheld the treachery of Math.’ ” 

“ The Little Queen ever mistrusted Math,” 
I cried. 

Tante Marianne nodded with approval. 

‘‘ Even as a child, Isabella was wiser than 
her husband. She liked not the Lancasters. 
She mistrusted Math. She cared nothing for 
the King’s favorites Busby, Greene, and Bagby. 
From the beginning she gave her little heart to 
the people of England. Would to the saints 
that King Richard had done likewise. 

“ The minstrel, Jacquiline, told us no more, 
but departed on his way, and almost imme- 
diately after came the enemy. Soldiers sur- 
rounded Wallingford and we were in the hands 
of Henry of Lancaster. .We were at once 
ordered to prepare for a journey. In haste 
we set forth.” 

But where were you going, Tante Mari- 
anne?” I asked. 

‘‘We knew not, my child. Nothing told 
they even to the Queen. ’Twas in fright of 


i66 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


our lives that we trembled in our litters. My 
little Jacquiline, deceive not yourself into 
thinking that it is fine to be either a king or 
a queen.'’ 

‘‘ But, Tante Marianne,” I asked, ‘‘ did not 
you have as grievous a time as the little Isa- 
bella, and you had no lord, nor honor, nor 
fine clothes ? ” 

Tante Marianne made no reply. She ap- 
peared not to hear as she bent over my work. 

‘‘Thou art a good child, little Jacquiline,” 
she said. “ Thy stitches are indeed right fair 
for so tiny a maid. But the day is so dark that 
it will be well for thee to now cease work.” 

At that moment there entered the cook. 
He had come to take counsel with his mistress 
concerning a feast he was to prepare for some 
very fine guests who were that evening to sup 
with my aunt. I saw at once there would be 
no more story. 

My aunt did consult very long and most 
earnestly with her cook. In those days the 
households of merchants — for such had been 
the husband of Tante Marianne — were often 
very sumptuous. Tante Marianne was a 


SECOND VISIT OF THE MINSTREL 167 

housewife most notable and great care did 
give to her feasts. 

That afternoon she called me to her. 

“ Jacquiline/' she said, “ Albret will come 
to-day to play with you while I am busy with 
my guests.” 

I much rejoiced at this news. I made a 
brave resolve. I should array myself in the 
dress of the Little Queen, and I should gaze 
upon my face in the mirror of Tante Marianne. 

When Albret beheld me, he did admire me 
most heartily. 

“ Thou art more beautiful than the ladies at 
Court, Jacquiline,” he said. 

I had much fear of doing damage to the 
Queen’s robes, and therefore was I forced to 
sit in a chair and not play at rough games. 
There was naught for Albret to do but sit and 
admire me. At first was he willing to play so 
quiet a part, but presently did he begin to con- 
cern his mind with things more boylike. I 
fancied not neglect, so I went from the room 
and returned in my gown of green. 

‘‘Now,” called Albret, “now can we play. 
Best do I like thee in this, my Jacquiline.” 


i68 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


My aunt did have us served with a portion 
of the feast, and the time went right merrily. 
I told Albret of Math and the King. 

“ ’Tis strange for a dog to so act,” he did 
say. “ Ever are they beasts most faithful.” 

At length did Albret depart, and I went 
to my couch hoping that right often would 
Tante Marianne make a feast. But I did 
not let my thoughts entirely forsake the Little 
Queen. I thought of Math and what Tante 
Marianne had said of the heart of a little 
child. I determined that I, too, would be 
faithful. I should never desert Albret, never. 
With that firm resolve, I fell fast asleep. 


CHAPTER IX 


THE LADY DE COUCY 

O N the morrow Tante Marianne did give 
me a somewhat tedious instruction con- 
cerning my embroidery. When at 
length I was at work according to her lesson, 
she began the story. 

“ There are those, my child, who do declare 
that never again did the Little Queen behold 
our lord. The good God doth know better. 
There was one meeting, and one only. 'Tis 
not written in the English records ; there are 
those who deny it ; but was I not with the 
Queen, and do I not know ? 

“ As Fortune would have it, they did march 
us through London. In a street leading to the 
Tower we came upon a band of armed men, 
leading a prisoner of state to that gloomy 
fortress. Suddenly were we startled by a 

169 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


170 

cry of joy, and in a moment the Little 
Queen was in the arms of her dear lord, King 
Richard. 

‘‘ Poor man, poor King, how wan, how 
troubled was his face, framed in still by its 
crown of golden hair, but how careless, how 
unkept was its beauty. He held the child fast 
in arms loving and tender. 

“ ‘ My lord the King ! My lord the King ! ' 
said Isabella, smiling most happily. 

Richard smoothed her soft dark hair. 

“‘No more a king, dear heart,' he said, 
‘ only the captive of Lancaster.' 

“ ‘ But my lord and husband,' said Is^ella, 
smiling like a woman. 

“ ‘Yes, thy husband, little Isabella,' said the 
poor King, ‘ always thy husband and thy loving 
lord.' 

“ He kissed her again and again while we did 
turn away our eyes, blinded as they were with 
the tears we feign would hide. 

“ Then did the King tell Isabella that she 
was to go to her father and her mother in her 
own land of France. 

“ ‘ And there be safe,' he said, ‘ and when. 


THE LADY DE COUCY 


171 

my child, in years to come, thou shalt find thy 
thoughts going backward to this grievous Eng- 
land, remember then thy lord who, dear Isa- 
bella, loved thee well, and say for him a prayer 
as thou hast ever said.’ 

“ He had her fast and she did cling to him 
most lovingly. Then did she slip from his 
arms and take fast his hand. She turned to the 
lords and said : — 

‘ Proceed, good sirs. I shall not leave my 
husband, now that I have found him ; I shall 
stay with the King.’ 

The lords did look aghast. 

Then forth did step the false Northumber- 
land. He commanded them to part. 

‘‘ ^ Nay, nay, my lord,’ said the Queen. She 
pressed to the side of the King and clung to 
his arms with both her hands. 

“As for the King he lacked the will to let 
her depart. 

“’Twas a piteous sight, Jacquiline, our gallant 
Richard, our king no more, unthroned, un- 
crowned, beseeching with his weary eyes his 
jailer, once his vassal,, to take not from him the 
one being who ever truly loved him, a king 


172 THE LITTLE QUEEN 

dumbly begging for the company of one little 
child. 

“ M am the Queen. My place is by my 
lord/ so said our Isabella. 

Then did she plead like a little child, for- 
getful of her dignity. Northumberland turned 
away his eyes. If he would be firm, he had not 
strength to behold such tenderness. 

‘‘‘Nay, Madame, nay, — 'his tones were 
almost beseeching — ‘ make not my duty harder 
than fate hath already made it. I pray you bid 
your husband farewell. We must away to the 
Tower.' 

“ But words had no effect. The Queen 
clung fast to the King. Her heart was his, en- 
tirely his. Remember, Jacquiline, that though 
Isabella was only a child as you are, yet was she 
willing for the King she loved to go a prisoner 
to that fearful Tower." 

“Yes, my aunt," I said. 

“ At her tears Northumberland did waver 
for a moment, but he rallied into the firmness 
of his first resolve. Then did the poor King 
take little Isabella into his arms as he had held 
her that bright May morn at Windsor. 


THE LADY DE COUCY 


173 

“ ‘ Adieu, once more, adieu, dear little Isa- 
bella,' he said, ‘adieu my Little Queen.' 

“ Then sadly went we on our dreary way, 
and they shut us up in a castle in Kent. With 
us was the Duchess of Ireland ; though she 
bore no love for Richard, she was most 
friendly to the Little Queen. The days went 
their way, one drearily following the other. 
Nothing ever came to pass to cheer our 
gloom. There was a strict order that no 
one in the castle was so much as to mention 
King Richard to the Queen. 

“ One day, however, affairs took a turn. 

“ The lady of Ireland informed the Queen 
that one whom she loved was even then 
within the castle. 

“ ‘ The King, my lord, the King ! ' cried the 
poor little Princess, her face aglow. 

“ ‘ Nay, Madame, nay,' cried the Duchess, in 
affright. 

“ The lady had no mind to lose her head. 
She made haste to the curtain over the door- 
way. She lifted its folds. 

“ With arms outstretched, her face alive 
with love, there stood our Lady de Coucy. 


174 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


She had disobeyed the King, and never left 
England for France. Now did we know why 
she had bidden us au revoir and not adieu. 
The Little Queen's joy at seeing her was very 
quickly lost in her anxiety to hear news con- 
cerning her lord. She sent the Duchess of Ire- 
land from the apartment. She would have none 
but her kinswoman and me. She implored 
the Lady de Coucy to tell her of the King. 

“ With tears streaming down her cheeks her 
cousin broke the silence laid upon all in the 
Castle, and did tell the Little Queen that which 
none of us had dared mention, but which we 
all, alas, did know." 

“What was it? I pray you tell me, Tante 
Marianne." 

“ Wait, my child. For you to understand, 
we must begin where we left off. 

“It was decreed by the traitor that Richard 
leave Flint Castle and proceed to London. 
Forth brought they two small and most 
miserable animals. Upon one they did mount 
the Earl of Salisbury. Upon the other did 
they place King Richard, our lord who ever 
had been a lover of a fine steed. 


THE LADY DE COUCY 


175 


Then proceeded they to Chester, where 
Hal of Monmouth joined them.” 

Did he speak to the King, ma tante ? ” I 
asked. 

‘‘ I know not, my child. I know only that 
they marched to Lichfield. Then did the 
King make his escape by letting himself 
down from a window. Outside the Castle 
the Welsh were awaiting him. But alack, 
alas, the garden was a walled one and the 
King was retaken. Then marched they 
toward London. When they had come to 
within six miles of the town, out came to 
meet them the Lord Mayor and the guilds 
in fine array. 

‘‘^The good Duke of Lancaster,’ sounded 
on every side. There was not a voice lifted 
to greet the King. 

‘‘ Then did that false Bolingbroke, traitor 
and thief that he was, mounted upon as 
handsome a steed as was Richard’s a sorry 
one, approach London amid' the cries of: 
‘God save thee, Bolingbroke!’ ‘Jesu pre- 
serve thee! Welcome, Bolingbroke!’ 

“ Riding with stately pace he turned from 


176 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


side to side, bowing, first here, then there, and 
saying, ‘ I thank you, countrymen/ 

‘‘ So did say our Lady de Coucy, her lips 
curling most scornfully. 

Behind him, my child, came the anointed 
King upon his sorry, jaded nag, — Richard 
who ever had worn most brave apparel, who 
ever had ridden the best of steeds, our lord 
the King with the golden hair, with the 

countenance so sad, so sweet. When the 

people beheld the meekness of his figure, 
they were not touched. They became be- 
side themselves with rage. They did stoop 
and fill their hands with dust, and then, 
Jacquiline, then they did throw it upon the 

sacred head of the King, while down his 

cheeks did stream tears which he fought back 
with smiles most pitiful to see.'' 

Oh, tante," I cried, “ Oh, tante ! " 

‘‘'Twas most cruel, Jacquiline." The face 
of my aunt was wet. “ Forgive me, child. 
I loved the King." 

For a moment Tante Marianne did not 
speak. The room was very still. I seemed 
to see King Richard in his shame, to hear 


THE LADY DE COUCY 


177 


the jeers, to see the London people throw 
the dust. 

At last she began : — 

“ When they were about to enter the city, 
Jacquiline, Bolingbroke, turning and pointing 
to his cousin, cried out : — 

“ ‘ Fair Sirs, here is your King.’ Then did 
he ask them what they would do with him. 

‘ Let him be taken to Westminster ! ’ 
cried the cruel Londoners. ‘ Away with him 
to the Tower.’ 

That day they went to the palace, but on 
the morrow did they march the King to the 
Tower. 

‘‘ ’Twas then that we met him. 

“ When the Lady de Coucy reached this 
point, the Little Queen was so overcome with 
her tears that her cousin must fain pause. 
None of us ventured to comfort her. How 
could we, Jacquiline ? Were we not also 
weeping piteously ? 

“ ^ My lord, my lord,’ sobbed the Queen, 
‘ I could comfort him, Marianne, indeed, my 
lady, I could comfort him.’ 

She raised her head. 


N 


178 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


“ ^ My cousin/ she said, ‘ what since hath 
come to pass ? * 

Her voice was all broken with sobs, yet 
did she speak with the control of a woman. 
My Lady de Coucy hesitated. 

“ Her head, French that it was, was in 
surely enough danger from this visit. What 
if she should be overheard breaking the com- 
mand of King Henry ? I crept to the cur- 
tains. I peeped without. 

‘‘ ‘ Madame, there are no listeners,’ I said ; 
‘ but, Madame, I pray you be most cautious.’ 

“She thanked me with a smile. ’Twas 
ever in the way of our Lady de Coucy 
to be right courteous. She lowered her voice. 

“ ‘ Madame and cousin,’ she said to the 
Queen, ‘there was an old prophecy.’ 

“ Then did the face of Michelle, wrinkled, 
ominous, rise before me. I seemed again at 
Calais, hearing her voice. 

Isabella of Valois is born to grief,’ I heard 
her say. 

’Tis said, Madame/ continued the Countess 
of St. Pol, ‘ that a wonderful wizard, an en- 
chanter called Merlin foretold that Lancaster 


THE LADY DE COUCY 


179 

was to reign. The foolish talk got into the 
people's heads.' She hesitated. 

“ I buried my face in my hands knowing 
what was coming, and I dreaded to behold 
little Isabella made into a sorrowing woman 
before her day. The Lady de Coucy put 
aside etiquette. She gathered her little cousin 
to her arms. She smoothed her hair and 
treated her as a child. 

‘ Isabella,' she said, very gently, ‘ they 
have taken away his crown. Richard of Bor- 
deaux is no longer the King ! ' 

“Well did we know how weary was the 
King of kingdoms and of crowns. I wondered 
if he were altogether unwilling to lay aside 
his state, but the Queen saw in the matter 
naught but sorrow. With a face stricken by 
grief into that of a woman, she heard the 
rest of the story — how they led King Richard 
to Westminster Hall, that most wondrous 
room, Jacquiline, which was to be the glory 
and the crowning of his reign. Oft had he 
discoursed upon its beauty at Windsor ; with 
pride had he shown it to the Little Queen 
when first she had come to England. He 


i8o 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


had been its builder, its beauty was of his 
dreaming, and now the first ceremony held 
therein was his own abdication ! Such are the 
strange things of life ! 

“ The cruel things, ma tante,” I said. “ The 
things most unjust and wicked.” 

But my aunt did chide me for such vehe- 
mence. 

‘‘ Into this hall there came the King and all 
the noble peers, on the last day of September 
in the year of our Lord 1399. For the last 
time did Richard appear in his royal robes, 
his sceptre in his hand, his crown upon his 
head. He took his place upon one side. On 
the other was his cousin, treacherous Boling- 
broke. Between them stood the empty throne, 
the throne which had caused such misery. 
Then, in the hearing of them all, was read 
the act of abdication to which King Richard 
had agreed the day before in the Tower. And 
as the roll was read, without the palace did the 
Londoners shout for joy.” 

“I hate them, Tante Marianne!” I cried. 
“ 'Twas most cruel ! How could the poor 
King stand it ? ” 






THE LADY DE COUCY 


i8i 


Tante Marianne shrugged her shoulders. 

‘‘We must stand what comes, my Jacquiline, 
kings as well as them of less estate. 'Twas 
cruel, most cruel.'' 

Tante Marianne wiped her eyes. 

“ Next, my child, they read the coronation 
oath, and thirty-three articles of accusation 
against the King for infringing it, and thereby 
deserving to lose his crown." 

“ But they were false, the accusations, ma 
tante ? " 

My aunt shook her head with a shrug of her 
shoulders. 

“ I loved Richard, my child. I am no judge 
of the rights and wrongs of kingdoms. 'Tis 
said here in France that England was sadly 
misgoverned by Richard of Bordeaux. All 
men are not born to be kings even though the 
sacred oil anoint their heads. Richard was a 
man for love and gentleness, and not for 
war and strife. He was a man born out of 
time." 

“ And did not one speak for the King, ma 
tante ? " I asked, my heart aching most ten- 
derly for his poor Majesty, standing there so 


i 82 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


meekly before his cousin, and the lords stretch- 
ing out their hands to strip him of his glory. 

“ But one, Jacquiline. The Bishop of 
Carlisle did demand the right of the King to 
be confronted by his accusers. For which 
speaking, dear child, he was deprived of his 
see, and by a hair’s breadth escaped the loss of 
his head. But my Lady reported that thus 
did the King address the company : — 

“ ‘ I have reigned King of England, Duke 
of Aquitaine, and Lord of Ireland about 
twenty-two years ; which royalty, lordship, 
sceptre, and crown I now fully and willingly 
resign to my cousin, Henry of Lancaster, and 
entreat of him, in the presence of you all, to 
accept this sceptre.’ 

“ He handed the sceptre to Henry of Lan- 
caster who gave it to the Archbishop. He 
lifted the crown with his own hands from his 
anointed head, and laying it before him said 
right simply : — 

“ ‘ Henry, fair cousin, I present and give to 
you this crown with which I was crowned King 
of England, and with it all rights dependent 
upon it.’ Then without further words he 


THE LADY DE COUCY 


183 


meekly departed from the splendid hall of 
his own building, and not one hand was raised 
to stay him. 

‘‘ There are those who say, Jacquiline, that 
the real abdication of King Richard took place 
in a room in the Tower, he then handing the 
crown to Bolingbroke, but I tell the tale as the 
Lady de Coucy told it to the Queen. 

“The King had but departed from the hall 
when forth stepped that false traitor Boling- 
broke. First did he cross his breast and brow 
and begin a speech. 

“ ^ I, Henry of Lancaster, — ’ In this speech 
he did not scruple to set forth the virtues of a 
man called Hereford, Derby, and Bolingbroke. 
When he had made an end of all his false talk, 
those lords did cry out for God to save King 
Henry. They entreated him to wear the 
crown, and in place of Richard to reign over 
them. A fortnight later he became the King 
of England. Two days after his coronation 
they did create Harry of Monmouth the Prince 
of Wales. 

“ When the Little Queen heard this, she 
wept most bitterly. She implored the Lady 


1 84 THE LITTLE QUEEN 

de Coucy to tell her where they had shut the 
King. 

“ ‘ At Pontefract Castle, Madame, and much 
doth he cry out for thee, my child. Care I 
naught for crowns or kingdoms,” they do say 
he saith. Give me but my Little Queen.” 
But they will not, little Isabella,' added the 
Countess, the tears streaming down her cheeks, 
for she would raise no hopes which she knew 
to be false. 

At this moment did enter the Lady Morti- 
mer. By the making of Hal Prince of Wales, 
her little son, the rightful heir, was cast aside. 
When she heard whereof we were speaking, she 
joined her tears to ours.T^ 

‘^’Tis most piteous, Jacquiline, to be a 
woman when there are wrongs to right, evil 
to undo. We chafed at our helplessness.” 
‘‘Tante Marianne, — ” 

“Yes, my child.” 

“ I think that the King of England was too 
meek. Did he never speak out his thoughts ? ” 
“Oh, yes, my child,” said Tante Marianne. 
“ 'Tis much too long a story to tell you all 
that happened. 'Twas said that in the Tower 


THE LADY DE COUCY 


185 

he was a very lion for courage, most valiantly 
defying his cousin and the lords at every turn. 
He commanded Bolingbroke to do him rever- 
ence. ’Tis said that the traitor quailed before 
his words. But 'twas all in vain. When there 
are pricks upon every side, a man would destroy 
himself were he to do aught but rest in peace. 
Then presently, they do report, a despair deep 
and dull settled upon the King, and from it 
nothing ever again aroused him. 

‘‘ There was no changing of the matter. A 
king cannot rule a people who will not have 
him. Richard was powerless, and hence did 
he choose the dignity of meekness, making 
pretence that he y^lded the crown full will- 
ingly. I have ever thought that he had in 
mind the hope that they would let him forget 
crowns and thrones in some humble retirement. 

“ And so, my child, did Bolingbroke become 
the King of England. The people had re- 
membered, and with the crown they rewarded 
him because he did ever make friends with the 
commoners. 

Immediately upon his coronation he an- 
nounced that he would celebrate his accession 


i86 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


to the throne by a grand tournament at Ox- 
ford. Oxford, my child, is a town most famous 
for learning. * 'Tis upon the river Thames in a 
spot most beautiful. I went not thither but 
oft have I heard of its beauty from those in 
the Castle at Windsor.’’ 

Tante Marianne told me no more that 
morning, but on the morrow she did at once 
begin. 


CHAPTER X 


AT SUNNINGHILL 

Lady de Coucy,” said Xante 
/ Marianne, ‘‘ became the chief com- 
fort of the Little Queen. Isabella 
set aside her state and turned to the Lady of 
France as a troubled child goes ever to its 
mother. But, alas, she was at Leeds but four 
days. Upon the fifth there arose without the 
Castle a mighty clamor. 

“‘The Lady of France! The Lady of 
France 1 ’ we heard in threatening tones. 

“’Twas a crowd from London. 

“ We were for hiding our Lady de Coucy, 
but, as she came not out to them, the storm 
grew fiercer and most threatening. Then cast- 
ing aside our restraint she went bravely forth. 

“ ‘ Lady,’ said the leader, ‘ make instant 
preparations for departure, for we will not suf- 
fer you to remain longer here. Take care, 
187 


i88 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


Madame, in saying farewell to Queen Isabella 
that you show not any signs of anger at our 
dismissing you, but tell her that your husband 
and daughter in France have sent to entreat 
your return. This we advise you to do as you 
value your life. You must ask no questions 
and make no remarks to the Queen upon what 
is going on. You will be escorted to Dover and 
embarked in the passage boat for Boulogne.’ 

“For a moment she hesitated. Her face 
was white to the lips. Then : — 

“Hn God’s name will I do what you direct.’ 

“And so she departed, and no one knew 
that she had told the Queen of the undoing 
of Richard. As for the rest of us we were 
anew commanded not to so much as name 
Richard to the Queen. ’Twas hard upon us. 
Oft at night did mine ears catch the sound of 
her sobs as she grieved alone for the King she 
loved so dearly. Poor Little Queen, Jacqui- 
line, without father, mother, or the Richard 
she loved. Yet dared I not to speak, not so 
much as to open my lips, for fear that such dis- 
obedience might bring to pass my banishment 
to France. ’Twas severe upon poor little 


AT SUNNINGHILL 


189 


Simonette, for throughout her whole life was 
she ever mastered by the liveliness of her 
tongue. Dull indeed were our days ; sad our 
thoughts. Wearily went the hours until one 
day came the command for us to march to 
the Castle at Sunninghill. 

“We were somewhat enlivened by the change, 
and the Little Queen at times found heart 
enough to take pleasure in the garden. It 
chanced one day shortly after our arrival that 
she walked therein attended by three ladies. I 
had been bidden to follow them and was getting 
my own pleasure from the clear cool air. *Twas 
the month of January. Cold was the weather 
and the white frost lay upon the ivy leaves as 
the. glimmer of silver. We had naught to do 
for amusement but to watch some fowls rising 
upon puzzled wings as the frozen surface of a 
hill pond resisted their bodies. 

“ One of the ladies ventured to propose to 
the Queen that she try to be merry, amuse 
herself. She advised dancing. A second pro- 
posed bowling when the Queen would have 
none of the first. The third advised a minstrel 
and a song. 


190 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


“ ^ Thou hast it/ cried little Isabella, ‘ a song, 
no minstrel. Hearken to me.’ 

The ladies did look at each other in great 
surprise. 

‘‘ One of them proposed a return to the Castle 
where a minstrel might come forward with his 
lute. 

“ ‘ My song is for war, not for lutes,’ an- 
swered the Queen. She did not seem like 
herself. Her eyes were bright as if she were 
inspired by some power to defy even Henry. 

‘‘Then she threw back her head. To the 
fright of us all she began the song of ‘ Sweet 
Richard.’ She sang it with words of English 
and not of Welsh. 

“ ‘ His lofty crest seemed to defy, 

Aught peril to be nigh, 

As far across the spreading plain. 

Loud came his battle-cry, 

“ Strike down the foe, my fellow-men. 

We fight for God on high ! ” 

‘“For soon there shall resound again. 

That sacred battle-cry, 

“ Strike down the foe, my fellow-men. 

Ye fight for God on high ! ” ’ 


AT SUNNINGHILL 


191 

At the moment when the Queen was sing- 
ing these last words, a figure rushed from the 
Castle. 

’Twas Simonette, and she came toward us, 
her light hair flying upon the breeze. 

‘ Madame, Madame ! ’ she cried ; ‘ Madame ! ' 

“ When she reached the Queen, in breathless 
sentences she told the news. An army was be- 
fore the Castle. The men wore the badge of 
the white hart! We laughed! We cried! 
We sang with joy! England was rising ! 

‘^We hastened to the castle to find all in 
confusion, for the attack was unexpected. 
'Twas not long before men singing ‘Sweet 
Richard ' and wearing the badge of the white 
hart were in sole possession. The castle, my 
child, was King Richard’s, and on every side 
were our friends. I wish that you could have 
beheld Simonette. She flew around, her hair 
in her eyes, her gown in disarray, crying : — 

“‘The King! The King! God save King 
Richard ! ’ 

“As for the Little Queen, I wish, Jacqui- 
line — ” 

At that moment in came Albret. 


192 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


For once I was not rejoiced to see him. 
Much I desired to hear the rest of the story. 

Tante Marianne, however, at once arose. 
She sent me from the room that she might 
hear the message. Upon my return she ex- 
plained that Albret had permission to remain 
and play with me. As the Jack-o’-the-clock 
at that moment struck upon the bell the hour 
when Tante Marianne was wont to examine 
into the affairs of her household, she left us 
alone. 

In the credence was the comfit box. In it 
was green ginger. I served Albret, and there 
we sat in the window-seat and I told him some- 
what of the history of the Little Queen. 

“ ’Tis most wicked at Court,” I said. ‘‘ I 
would not live there at the risk of losing mv 
head.” 

Albret laughed. 

“ ’Tis there one gets on in the world,” he 
said. ‘‘And I trust, Jacquiline, that one day 
thou, too, shalt come thither ; when I am a 
knight, I mean to wed thee as King Richard 
did the Little Queen. But I shall not desert 
thee, Jacquiline, for wars in Ireland. Never! 


AT SUNNINGHILL 


193 


I shall take thee with me and fight for thee 
against all our enemies ; on my faith, I shall/' 

He sprang from the seat and waved an im- 
aginary sword. He looked so brave in his 
pretty doublet and hose, his eyes flashing fire, 
that I was fired with admiration. 

I felt sure that if Richard of Bordeaux had 
had such fearless ways, never need he have lost 
his crown. 

Because of his bravery I gave Albret a sec- 
ond piece of ginger. 


CHAPTER XI 


THE UPRISING 

‘‘ T COULD not sleep, dear tante/' I 

I began next morning, ‘‘ for wondering 
what next came to pass at Sunning- 

hili;’ 

My aunt smiled. 

“ It much pleaseth me, Jacquiline, to have 
you feel so great an interest in the Little 
Queen, but the story now, my child, doth 
grow most sad. The leaders of the army 
which took Sunninghill were the Earl of Kent 
and the Earl of Salisbury. With them were 
the younger Holland, brother of the King — 
the Earl of Kent, Jacquiline, also was his 
brother, and the Earl of Rutland. Ac once 
did they acquaint the Queen with the news 
that the story of the downfall of King Richard 
at length had reached France. Merchants 
journeying home to Bruges had borne the 


194 


THE UPRISING 


195 


tidings. Later, upon her return to Paris, 
had the Lady de Coucy confirmed it. 

“ ‘ And my lord and father hath sent aid ? ' 
cried little Isabella, hope flaming red in her 
cheeks, eagerness clasping her little hands over 
her heart. 

“ ‘ Nay, Madame, alas, nay,’ said the earls, 
sadly. 

“ Then did they gently tell her that the dire 
news had sent the poor King of France into 
a frenzy. 

‘‘ ‘ And Madame the Queen ? ’ inquired 
Isabella, most timidly. 

The earls turned away. 

“No one chose to tell the Little Queen that 
her beautiful mother had so grown in idle 
wickedness that she made no exertion to save 
her child. To the surprise of all little Isa- 
bella pressed for no answer. Children hear 
more than their elders think, and ofttimes they 
think more than they say. Perchance the 
Little Queen had overheard some of the talk 
concerning her mother which ofttimes went 
on at the Castles. Whatever she knew she 
said no more, and the Earl of Salisbury, turn- 


196 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


ing the subject, did make haste to inform 
the Queen that he had come at the head of 
a body of plotters determined to restore 
Richard to his throne. Then Queen Isa- 
bella was wild with joy. With face fired by 
looks of courage and of bravery, she hurried 
about the Castle, she passed in and out among 
the soldiers, she spoke of her husband, she 
implored them to be true to Richard their 
King,” 

“ What, my aunt, a little girl like that ? ” I 
cried. “ Was she not afraid ? ” 

“Afraid? Never, my child. She had no 
thought of herself but only of her dear lord. 
’Twas this pretty fearlessness in Isabella which 
so made the English love her. Whatever their 
faults, they ever are ready to honor bravery. 

“ The earls told us that Richard had made 
his escape. 

“ ‘ Vive le roy ! Vive Richard ! ' cried 
Simonette, shouting like a boy. ‘ God save 
the King ! God save King Richard ! ' 

“ The excitement grew wilder and more 
joyous. With her own hands the Queen 
tore down the badges of Henry which adorned 



AT THE HEAD OF THE ARMY RODE LITTLE ISABELLA 



THE UPRISING 


197 


the Castle. She ground beneath her little 
feet the swans, the antelopes, the forget-me- 
nots. 

“‘Souviegne vous de moy !’ she cried. ‘Re- 
member King Richard ! ' and she laughed most 
joyously as she put up the badges of the white 
hart. 

“ ‘ God save my lord ! ’ she cried, ‘ God save 
King Richard ! ’ 

“When the soldiers beheld her, they were 
wild with fire at seeing their Little Queen show 
such bravery, for she was a child and yet a 
woman, though most beautiful to gaze upon. 
Then with waving banners and cries of ‘ God 
save King Richard ! ' we set forth for Windsor. 
At the head of the army rode little Isabella, 
the badge of the white hart upon her breast, a 
royal banner in her hand. The autumn breeze 
caught her long hair; it blew it around and 
about her joyous face. She tossed it back, and 
turned ever and anon to gaze into the faces of 
soldiers. ’Twas a wonderful sight, Jacquiline, 
a little girl leading an army of brave men. As 
we marched we sang, and our singing was ever 
of one song: — 


198 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


His lofty cest seemed to defy, 

Aught peril to be nigh, 

As far across the spreading plain. 

Loud came the battle-cry, 

“ Strike down the foe, my fellow-men, 

We fight for God on high ! ” 

Unconquered is the valiant sword. 

Although aside ’twas laid. 

When by the traitor’s treacherous sword. 

The warrior was betrayed. 

His noble heart may still defy 
Aught peril to be nigh ! 

‘“For soon there shall resound again. 

That sacred battle-cry, 

“ Strike down the foe, my fellow-men. 

We fight for God on high ! ” ’ 

“ Whene’er we reached the last line, the ex- 
citement ran high. The Queen began the song 
again and again ! It fired the blood of the 
soldiers. 

“ ‘ God save King Richard ! Down with 
the traitor ! Death to Lancaster ! Down with 
false Bolingbroke ! ’ 

“ Marry, my child, that march was a thing 
never to be forgotten. We came to town. 
We tore down the leopard. We trampled on 


THE UPRISING 


199 


the swan. We proclaimed Richard of Bor- 
deaux King of England and put up the white 
hart. On we marched, singing and shouting 
for the King. 

‘‘Ah, Jacquiline, never shall the picture van- 
ish from my mind; I think that I shall behold 
it even when in Paradise, — that little girl of 
twelve, that shouting army of mailed men ! 
The world never saw the like before nor hath 
it since. 

“ As we marched the people streamed out to 
behold us. Even in my joy I took note that 
the men did look most sullen. As for the 
women, they wiped their eyes when they gazed 
upon the Little Queen but shouted with smiles 
on their lips. 

“ They shouted, however, ‘ God save Queen 
Isabel ! God save the Little Queen ! ’ Not 
a cry for Richard. 

“ I noted that the earls began to look 
uneasy. Sir John Holland, the Earl of Kent, 
explained to the Queen that one more lord was 
of their party, the King's cousin, Edward, son 
of the Duke of York, and known as the 
Duke of Aumerle. 


200 THE LITTLE QUEEN 

“ ‘ But why is he not with us ? ’ inquired the 
Queen. 

“ The lord shook his head. 

“ ‘ Madame, ’tis most strange. We know not, 
fair sister, why he tarries.' 

Most strange it was and most treacherous, 
but at that time we suspected it not that a lord 
such as the Duke of Aumerle to save his own 
poor head would act the traitor. We were so 
full of joy there was no room for fear. Gay 
with hope, with banners waving, and singing 
‘ Sweet Richard,' we entered Cirencester where 
they had told us we were to meet the King." 

‘‘And did you, Tante Marianne.^" I cried. 

Tante Marianne shook her head. 

“Alack, alas, nay, little Jacquiline! 'Twas 
not Richard who greeted us but a priest who 
much resembled him, and whom they had 
decked in the trappings of royalty to deceive 
the people. I think that the Little Queen had 
understood the matter from the beginning, for 
she shed no tears nor showed special disappoint- 
ment but continued to cheer the men. The 
Mayor of Cirencester made a show of loyalty, 
vile traitor that he was. Reassured by his 


THE UPRISING 


201 


manner we sought our rest in peace with not a 
thought of treachery. 

“ About midnight I awoke with a start. The 
place was in a tumult wild and fierce. I heard 
shouts and the clash of swords. 

‘ Betrayed ! We are betrayed ! Save the 
Queen ! * 

“ It was the voice of Sir Thomas Holland 
that I heard. ‘ Awake ! Awake ! ’ 

‘‘ Soldiers swarmed in all directions. There 
was an awful sound of oaths, fearful oaths, 
Jacquiline, the oaths of faithful who find them- 
selves betrayed, caught in a trap. 

‘‘‘Cursed be Edward of York. May his 
traitor’s soul burn in purgatory ! ’ 

“ I sprang from my couch. We had slept 
in our clothes, so quickly I reached the Little 
Queen and drew her out of danger. For six 
hours did our men hold out and then, over- 
powered, they surrendered to the Mayor of 
Cirencester, who most vilely had betrayed 
us.” 

Tante Marianne paused most solemnly. 

“ Little Jacquiline,” she said, “ I like not 
to tell thee of that bloody time. They took 


202 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


prisoner the Little Queen, but forgave her in 
that she was only a child. But as for Sir 
Thomas Holland and the Earl of Salisbury, 
they dragged them forth, and there before our 
women’s eyes they did most cruelly behead 
them both.” 

Tante Marianne hid her face in her hands. 

‘‘ I like not to think of that time,” she said 
at length, raising it. “ Sooner or later, little one, 
almost all those noble lords did lose their lives 
in that same cruel fashion. ’Tis an awful tale, 
my child. The streets of Cirencester ran red 
with blood. And there were we forced to re- 
main, knowing that our cause was betrayed and 
hearing in our ears the hateful cry, ‘ God save 
King Henry ! ’ 

“ Moreover, we had for our comfort the 
thought that our heads were in? hourly danger 
since in the eyes of the law we were all traitors 
to Bolingbroke, the King of England. They 
did us no harm, however. Bolingbroke had 
other plans than death for the Queen. When 
all was quiet and the last flicker of loyalty to 
Richard had cooled to dull ashes, they marched 
us to a palace deep down in a most beautiful 


THE UPRISING 


203 


forest in Essex. They called it Epping Forest 
and the palace, Havering-alte-Bower. 

‘‘ The place was most beautiful. About in 
the wood ran the dun deer, and the wild beasts 
of all kinds. I am persuaded, my child, that 
in its glades you could surely see elves and 
fairies, so deep, so still, so sweet is its green- 
ness. Oft had the King told us of this palace. 
In the old days he many times had ridden from 
thence to Flashy, where now they informed us 
had expired the Duchess of Gloucester. ’Twas 
a lovely spot at Havering, and there, my child, 
did we remain until the day when, bidding 
farewell to the England which had proved her- 
self so poor a friend to the Little Queen, we 
set sail for the France from which we had de- 
parted with such joy. In time we learned what 
had happened to betray us. 

Edward of Aumerle had received a letter 
in the presence of his father the Duke of York. 
His grace at once demanded to read it. The 
son refused. Then did the old Duke snatch it 
from him. He read it aloud and discovered in 
its lines the plot to reseat Richard and to take 
Henry prisoner at his tournament at Oxford. 


204 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


Then, to save his own poor head, did Aumerle 
at once to Windsor and confess the whole mat- 
ter to Henry. Because he thus saved the 
crown to the traitor, he was given his life. 

^‘We heard this from Hal of Monmouth, 
now called the Prince of Wales. Oft did he 
come to Havering to see the Queen. He 
cared right little for his father. ’Twas most 
easy to see that. One day, when he thought 
none could hear him, he said to the Queen : — 

‘‘‘In truth, fair cousin, I ever loved my 
lord and cousin Richard. He was ever right 
good to me, and in Ireland did he make me a 
knight. It grieveth me sore that such sorry 
things have come to pass.’ 

“ But as yet we knew not where they had 
placed the King, nor did we ever in this world 
have certain knowledge of what befell him. 
’Twas many years before the Little Queen 
would believe him dead, nor did she resign 
hope until we had lived long in France. This 
much of his fate report did tell us. 

“In March of that year in which we came to 
Havering a grand funeral took place in Lon- 
don. At its head was a litter covered with 


THE UPRISING 


205 


black cloth. Over it was draped a canopy of 
the same. The procession stopped at a place 
in the city called Chepe. All who so chose 
were there permitted to gaze upon the face of 
the dead. They say it was Richard of Bor- 
deaux, and that his head — that beautiful head 
with its golden hair — was soldered to a black 
cushion. This was done, Jacquiline, because 
they say he had been killed by a blow, and 
they would conceal it. For two whole days it 
lay in the great church of St. Paul, where, little 
one, they did report, twenty thousand specta- 
tors came to gaze upon the face of him whom 
so cruelly they had treated, to look upon that 
head upon which had they placed a crown, and 
then had thrown the dust. Thus, do they say, 
died Richard of Bordeaux, a king so splendidly 
crowned, and so ignominiously brought to a 
crownless end. They buried this corpse in 
Westminster Abbey with a kingly ceremony. 
That false traitor, Henry, did himself attend 
the dirges. Later, they bore the body to 
Langly Bower, the favorite home of King 
Richard.” 

‘‘ But how had he died, my aunt ? ” I asked. 


206 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


Truly people are most wicked and cruel 
toward each other, I thought. 

‘^’Twas said, Jacquiline,'* replied Tante 
Marianne, by some, that they starved our 
poor lord to death. The tale most widely 
believed, however, was that a certain knight, 
called Sir Piers of Exton, hearing the traitor 
say that never would he reign in peace while 
Richard lived, set forth, and at Pontefract 
Castle did rush upon the King at dinner and 
slay him. 

’Twas said that Richard fought right 
bravely, slaying four of the followers of Sir 
Piers before the knight dealt him the blow 
which slew him. 

“There were those, Jacquiline, who declared 
the corpse to be the same priest whom we saw 
at Cirencester. These maintained that the 
King, by the aid of two of his keepers, con- 
trived to escape from his prison. He made 
his way to Scotland, the keepers in the mean 
season giving out the story of his death. Since 
I have dwelt in France there has come to mine 
eyes a story of how Richard lived at some 
castle in Scotland, a prisoner until the year 


THE UPRISING 


207 


1419, when he expired from natural causes. 
Of that, however, I have never heard proof.” 

I drew a long breath. 

“Tante Marianne,” I said, ‘‘I pray the 
saints that they did not kill him so cruelly.” 

“ I know not his end, poor lord,” answered 
my aunt, “ but I can tell you that the Little 
Queen gave no heed to the cruel reports con- 
cerning his death. She believed most truly 
that her dear lord was alive and had never for- 
gotten her.” 

‘^And did she then return to France?” I 
asked. 

My aunt shook her head. 

‘^No, no, little Jacquiline, our troubles were 
not so easily ended. After a time the Little 
Queen accepted the fact that the King would 
not return at least to her. She wore nothing 
but robes of black, and mourned him most 
faithfully. 

“ She no longer had the appearance of a 
child. Hardships had forced upon her the 
dignity of a woman. And now began new 
trouble for her. One day came Hal of Mon- 
mouth to Havering. 


208 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


‘ Fair cousin/ he said, ‘ever have I craved 
thee for my wife. I am now thirteen, and my 
lord and father saith that I may have thee for 
my wife, and I ask thy consent.' 

“ ‘ Shame upon thee, Hal,' cried the Queen. 
‘ Hast thou forgot my lord ? ' She burst into 
tears and none could comfort her. 

“In vain did the Prince of Wales urge his 
suit. She would not so much as hearken to him. 

“ Then did come certain lords. With many 
words they urged the marriage upon the Little 
Queen. She would have none of it. 

“ ‘ Never,' she cried, ‘ never ! My lord yet 
lives and shall I, his loving wife, wed with one 
of the house of Lancaster? Never, my lords, 
never ! ' She was a very marvel for firmness. 

“ Then came news from the court of France. 
'Twas there also thought a most wise thing 
that Isabella wed the Prince of Wales. In 
vain they urged the Queen. She was not yet 
fourteen, but she stood firm against two king- 
doms : ‘ I will not, my lords, I will not. I 
have one husband,' was all she would say. 
Nor could lords, nor time, nor words of any 
sort change her from her love toward Richard. 


THE UPRISING 


209 


‘ I will wed no one/ she said, ‘ and never 
one of Lancaster/ 

‘‘ The traitor King came not near her. I 
think that he had not courage to meet the 
glance of her clear, true eyes, now that he had 
betrayed her lord. There are those, who, 
brave in wickedness, become cowards before 
the innocence and truth of a child. Moreover, 
had he stolen all her jewels and divided them 
among his own children. Also, he knew that 
in the old days at Windsor, the Queen had 
mistrusted him. She had made no secret of 
her dislike, oft begging the King to have her 
excused from the visits of this cousin, Henry 
of Hereford. 

There was endless talk and noisy discus- 
sion. The King of France again was out of 
his senses. The French court, acting in his 
place, demanded the return of the Little Queen 
and all her jewels. Bolingbroke did flatly 
refuse. 

^ She shall reside in England like any 
other Queen Dowager,’ he said. 

‘ Send her back at once,’ ordered the 
French Council. 


210 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


“ Henry did not mind parting with Isabella. 
’Twas the jewels which concerned his grasping 
mind. 

‘‘ Then did they quarrel most grievously, 
Henry refusing to surrender even one of the 
stolen jewels. At last one day to Havering 
Castle came the Earl of Northumberland and 
the Count d* Albert. The King of France had 
regained his senses and had sent for his 
daughter. 

‘‘Now, my child,” said Tante Marianne, 
“ we have had enough for our morning. I 
like not to talk of those dreadful days at Ciren- 
cester. I seem ever to see that mob so fierce 
and raging, to behold the lifeless eyes of those 
poor lords. ’Tis a most piteous history, little 
one, but I much hope that the tale doth teach 
thee what steadfastness can do for one. Re- 
member ever how the faithfulness of Isabella 
won her the love of the English people, and 
of how the treachery of Aumerle made him 
hated.” 

“ But, my aunt,” I said, “ if the people of 
England so loved the Little Queen, why did 
they treat her so badly ? ” 


THE UPRISING 


211 


"‘’Twas the wicked Lancaster/* answered 
Xante Marianne. 

I thought a moment. 

Xante, I said. *Xwas because Aumerle 
was not steadfast that he did not lose his head. 
The Queen was steadfast and lost her husband 
and all her jewels.** 

Xante Marianne looked at me right sternly. 

“ Jacquiline/* she said, ‘"thou art a good 
child, but truly art thou too much given to the 
questioning of thy elders. That was not a 
fault of the Little Queen. She did what she 
was told, and spent no time in idle questioning.** 

“ Yes, my aunt,** I said very meekly. 

*Xwas the first time that my aunt had spoken 
to me severely. 

I ended my work in silence. I carried away 
my frame. I made no further comment. Xo 
argue with my aunt would be most unseemly, 
but I could not help thinking that the Little 
Queen had had a very grievous time for all her 
steadfastness and never asking questions. 

Truly things are most puzzling. 

When Albret came, I asked him concerning 
not asking questions. 


212 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


“Women should not ask them,” he said, 
“ men can. Women must believe what they 
are told.” 

I liked not this answer in the least. I was 
not so sure that I cared to marry Albret. 
There would be many other knights to choose 
from, of that I felt fully persuaded. 


CHAPTER XII 

FAREWELL TO ENGLAND 

I HEARD no more of the story for two 
days. 

Upon Saturday Tante Marianne went 
forth in a litter. She did not return until 
sunset, and was then most fatigued. 

On Sunday we went again to the Church 
of Our Lady. I saw Albret and I kept my 
eyes upon the priest. ’Twas not only because 
our thoughts are to be given in church to 
holy things alone. It would not be honest 
for me to say so. ’Twas because he had said 
that women must not ask questions, I had no 
mind to look at Albret. 

On Monday Tante Marianne had me bring 
my work and take my place upon the stool 
at her feet. 

“ The Little Queen, Jacquiline, saw the great 
lords in the presence of the Duchess of Ireland 


213 


214 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


and the other ladies of the Court. For the 
first time since we left Cirencester did she look 
happy. She plied the lords with questions 
concerning her mother, her father, her brothers, 
and the little sister whom she had never seen. 
’Twas pretty to behold her eagerness. 

“Not a word did any say of Richard of 
Bordeaux, for it was forbidden most strictly. 

“ This visit may have been pleasant, but it 
brought about a vast amount of fresh discus- 
sion. 

“Was the Little Queen to claim revenue 
as Dowager now that she refused to wed with 
Prince Hal? Some said yes, some said nay. 
And they might all have saved themselves the 
trouble since, in the end, Henry of Lancaster 
decided it, and of course in his own favor. 

“At last they told the Little Queen that 
she might return to France. Her joy was 
piteous to behold. She talked much about 
her little sisters Joanna, Marie, Michelle, Kath- 
erine. Marie, she had been told, was already 
promised to the church. Little Katherine, she 
was informed, was wondrous fair and a most 
bewitching babe. As for Simonette, albeit she 


FAREWELL TO ENGLAND 


215 


was now a young woman beyond twenty, she 
danced and sang, ‘ Vive la France ! Vive la 
France ! ’ She could not be restrained by 
prudence. 

“ ‘ And we shall again behold the Lady de 
Coucy ! * she cried. 

‘‘ She was like a person demented, running 
to and fro in the wildest joy. It would have 
been hard, think you not, to blame her ? Truly 
had we all had enough of cruel England. 

“ Simonette’s joy, however, was again to 
have a cooling. The Council declared that 
the Queen’s jewels must be returned with her. 
Not yet then could they let us go. We wrung 
our hands. ’Twas impossible for the jewels 
to be returned, for Henry of Lancaster had 
seized them and divided them among his chil- 
dren, Prince Hal receiving the largest part.” 

“ And he kept his share, ma tante? ” I cried. 

Hal kept the Queen’s jewels ? ” 

My aunt shrugged her shoulders. 

“They of Lancaster,” she said, “ever were 
for themselves, were they young or were they 
old. How the Council settled the matter I 
know not. It must, however, have been ar- 


2i6 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


ranged to some satisfaction, for one day came 
the joyful command that at last we were to 
depart for London. We trembled to rejoice, 
but this time did the news prove true. 

“’Twas a May morning when we left Hav- 
ering-alte-Bower. The forest was beautiful 
with the tender green of the spring, and the 
deer ran in and out its glades. Everywhere 
in the lanes we beheld flowers, the daisies, the 
buttercups, the fleurs-de-lys, and, alack, the 
blue forget-me-nots. The gorse had turned 
its stems into gold, the hedges had put forth 
their buds. Everywhere was the music of the 
birds. Gayly piped the blackbird, and his 
merry notes called back to our minds that 
jocund day at Windsor, that merry May 
morning when King Richard chanted the Col- 
lect and bade farewell to the Queen. 

‘‘ But the springtime has no memory, little 
Jacquiline. It smiles in beauty whether kings 
come or kings go. There are always little 
birds to sing its songs. There are always 
flowers to make it gay. It has no memory 
for the flowers laid low by the frost, nor 
thought of the little birds undone by the net 


FAREWELL TO ENGLAND 


217 


of the fowler. Why then should it remember 
Richard of Bordeaux and that bright morn at 
Windsor ? 

“ I glanced at the Little Queen. She was 
fourteen years of age now, and in her black 
robes she looked almost a woman. As we 
jaunced along the tears wet her cheeks. As 
for Simonette she sobbed aloud. 

‘ Souviegne vous de moy/ sang the little 
birds, and each loyal heart remembered King 
Richard. 

“ ‘ Souviegne vous de moy,’ sang the robin. 

‘‘ ‘ Souviegne de moy,' sang the thrush. 

‘ Souviegne de moy,' dropped in notes 
of melody from a skylark high in the 
clouds. 

Remember King Richard ^ Who that 
knew him as he was, not King but a gentle 
loving-hearted man, ever could forget him — 
that beautiful face, that golden hair, those 
dreaming eyes baffled by a fate too evil to be 
fought.” 

Xante Marianne sat as one in a dream. She 
paid no heed to me but talked as if to herself. 
It did frighten me somewhat, for as she talked 


2i8 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


I seemed to see the face of the King before 
mine eyes. I shuddered when I thought how 
perchance they had murdered him. I always 
pictured him as very beautiful, and it made 
me hot and very fierce when 1 thought of the 
cruel subjects throwing dust upon his head as 
he rode into London. I had decided that, 
after all, I liked Richard best of all the folk 
in the story. It was because he had the hard 
time. Every one loved the Little Queen, even 
if they did treat her badly. I felt that I 
should have liked to kiss the hand of Richard 
and have told him how sore was my heart 
at his sufferings. I, too, should have torn 
down the banners of Henry. I decided that 
as soon as my skill would permit it I should 
embroider me a badge with a white hart 
thereon. He was English, yes, and I hated 
the English. Had they not killed the Maid 
of Orleans ? But Richard was not like them. 
Moreover he was not born in their land. He 
was Richard of Bordeaux. Perhaps my aunt 
had been talking while my thoughts ran on. 
I do not know. I recall that I heard her 


saying : — 


FAREWELL TO ENGLAND 


219 


“ With us were the ladies of Gloucester, 
of Ireland, and of Hereford. They much 
loved little Isabella and sobbed most griev- 
ously at the thought of parting from her. 
With us also was the Lady of March, she 
who had been governess of the Little Queen 
and the widow of Mortimer. Poor lady, 
like the Little Queen she had her sorrows. 
Perchance that made her so tender to little 
Isabella. Then, also, had the King been a 
most dear friend to her husband. She had 
no cause to love the house of Lancaster. Her 
little son Edmund was grandson to the Duke 
of Clarence and true heir to the throne. With 
us also were other ladies and seven maids of 
honor and the chamberlain and a secretary 
and confessor. Also in our train were the 
bishops of Durham and Hertford and the 
Earl of Somerset, with four knights and six 
chevaliers. The people streamed forth to 
behold us, and wept full sore when they beheld 
the Little Queen for the last time. 

“We marched without pause until we reached 
the cross at Tottenham. There did we meet 
a gallant train bearing banners and pennons. 


220 THE LITTLE QUEEN 

’Twas the Earl of Worcester with his fol- 
lowers. 

At Sandford Hill a second procession 
joined us. ’Twas the Lord Mayor of Lon- 
don in a gorgeous apparel and a train of vis- 
counts who guarded the Little Queen to 
London.” 

“ How grand ! ” I cried. 

My aunt looked surprised. 

“ Perchance it was,” she said, I hated them 
all. Had they not played false with their 
King? Had they not gone forth in much 
this fashion to welcome false Lancaster ? Had 
they not thrown dust at their King ? My 
face was gloomy with hate. Isabella, how- 
ever, behaved most prettily. She remembered 
how queens must ever conceal their feelings. 
I wondered at it, knowing the soreness of her 
heart. She greeted them all most graciously 
and thanked them that they did her this ser- 
vice, and in truth they had always loved her 
and had never meant purposely to do her 
harm. Perchance, as she was ever fair minded, 
she thought upon this. I remember my Lady 
of Gloucester had said that she loved Isabella 


FAREWELL TO ENGLAND 


221 


because the child was possessed of a faithful 
heart, was serious minded, and not given over 
to gayety like her people, the French.” 

“ How dared she say that ! ” I cried, “ how 
dared she ! I hate the English ! ” 

My aunt laughed. 

‘‘Little do the English like us, my Jacquiline. 

“ But to continue. At Hackney came 
Prince Thomas, second son of the traitor. 
With him were the Constable of England, the 
Earl Marshal, and other great officers. In 
the end we did form a long and most gorgeous 
procession, and we marched through London 
until we came to the Tower wherein did they 
lodge us. 

“ This time the Little Queen made its gray 
halls echo with no laughter. In her black 
robes she went gravely up those gloomy stairs 
which had echoed to the sound of her baby 
feet as she had held fast the hand of Richard. 
She asked in which room they had placed him, 
but none would tell her. 

“ On the following day came Harry of 
Monmouth to say farewell to the Queen. 

“ ‘ Madame, and fair cousin,’ he said, ‘ for 


222 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


the last time do I offer you my hand, and my 
heart also, Lady Isabella.' 

‘‘ He had grown to be a very handsome lad, 
and most truly did he admire the Little Queen. 
I wondered that she could withstand him. 

“ ‘ Shame upon you, Hal ! ' Her words 
never altered. ^ Never shall I wed any one.' 

‘‘ ‘ Madame,' said Hal, when he was persuaded 
that she would have none of. him, ‘ thou hast 
a sister, nay, four of them. If there be one 
who resembleth thee, then shall I, upon my 
faith, depart one day to the Court of France 
and make her my bride.' 

‘‘Then did he kiss the hand of the Queen 
and bid her farewell. 

“Years after, little Jacquiline, did Hal keep his 
word, for he married Katherine of Valois called 
the Fair, the youngest sister of the Little Queen, 
and their son is now the King of England. 

“ Presently did we leave the Tower and set 
forth for Dover." 

My aunt paused at the sound of footsteps 
in the hall. Then in entered Albret the page. 
Marry, but he was gay in a suit of green velvet 
slashed with cloth of gold. 


FAREWELL TO ENGLAND 


223 


I wondered much what meant this running 
to and from the Court to Tante Marianne. 
My aunt saw my curiosity. 

You shall know in good time, Jacquiline,’' 
she said. 

Albret laughed when I did inquire of him. 

‘‘Soon thou art to know, Jacquiline,” he 
said most mysteriously. “ Perchance to-day, 
perchance to-morrow.” 

We seated ourselves upon the cushions. I 
asked Albret if he hated the English. 

“Indeed, yes, Jacquiline,” he cried; “when 
I am a knight, I shall fight them as my father 
did at Agincourt. And then, Jacquiline, — ” 

He sprang up and stood most bravely, 
holding his cap in his hand. 

“Then, Jacquiline, when I shall have con- 
quered the English, I shall return and marry 
you.” 

I felt a thrill of great pride at the thought 
of wedding a knight who had conquered 
England. 

“ But I am not grand like thee, Albret. I 
am but a country maid,” I said. 

“ I care not, on my faith.” 


224 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


Albret threw back his head most defiantly. 

^^Thou art much more to my taste, Jacqui- 
line, than the maid whom I have been told I 
am to wed.'’ 

And I should be quite faithful and true as 
was the Little Queen," I said. 

I was much pleased at all this. There was 
but one thing to spoil my joy. Albret had 
not golden hair like the King of England. 
Yet was he a very pretty lad and much to 
my mind. I gazed upon him with smiling 
approval, and we did play at cards until it was 
time for him to depart. When he heard the 
voice of Tante Marianne in the hall, he 
arose. 

“ Adieu, Jacquiline, adieu," he said. 

'Twas, we thought^ for the last time. In 
two days was I to depart for home, for my 
father on the morrow was to come for me. I 
stretched out my hand that Albret might kiss 
it. I endeavored to behave like a very grand 
lady. I wished that Tante Marianne had 
fashioned my robe with a train, 'twould much 
have assisted matters. 

“Adieu, Albret, adieu." I fetched a most 


FAREWELL TO ENGLAND 


225 


heart-rending sigh, I looked down most lan- 
guishingly. 

“ ‘ Souviegne vous de moy/ Albret, remem- 
ber me.” 

Albret did bow most courteously and press 
his lips to my hand. 

At that moment Tante Marianne appeared 
in the doorway. There was in her eyes a look 
I never yet had seen. They seemed dancing 
with merriment. I could not comprehend why 
they should be so. Did she not know that 
Albret and I were parting for long, long 
years, even until he had conquered the 
English ? She had not laughed at the Little 
Queen. 

Jacquiline,” — there was a little break in 
her voice, — ‘‘ Jacquiline, ^souviegne vous de 
moy,' remember me^ if you please.” 

After Albret had departed, I entreated Tante 
Marianne to continue her story. 

No, Jacquiline,” she said, “ I shall relate 
the rest — 'tis but little more there is — on 
the morrow. To-day I somewhat have to 
say to thee, little one.” 

She drew me to her and kissed my cheek. 

Q 


226 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


‘‘ 'Tis this, my child. When I sent for thee 
to visit me, Jacquiline, I had in mind a pur- 
pose. Always have I had it in my heart to 
further the fortunes of one of thy father’s 
children. He was ever my favorite relation. 
I have found thee to my taste, my child, and 
now, to-day, ’tis settled that in two years’ time 
you are to go to Court and serve Madame the 
Queen. For that have I been training thee, 
and for that end hath the page Albret come 
hither with messages.” 

At first I could not speak. 

“ To Court, my aunt ! Madame the Queen ! ” 
at last I cried. 

My aunt smiled in triumph. 

“The honor is great, my child. Thy old 
age will now be comfortable like mine, for 
thy fortune is made. Most happy will be 
thy parents. When thy father comes, we 
shall greet him with the news.” 

At the mention of my father my heart at 
once sank. The honor was great, but hard, 
since it meant leaving father and mother, my 
brothers and Angelique. 

Tante Marianne understood my trouble. 


FAREWELL TO ENGLAND 


227 


You will be older, then, my Jacquiline,” 
she said. ‘‘Trouble not over matters before 
the time. Thou art to further the fortunes 
of the family. Let that content thee. We 
must all make sacrifices.” 

Tante Marianne was most ambitious. 

All day I was like one in a dream. That 
I, little country Jacquiline, was to go to Court, 
seemed beyond believing. Then I thought of 
Albret. ’Twas that which he knew. I won- 
dered if he would be at Court when thither I 
came. 

Tante Marianne laughed when I asked her. 

Tante Marianne was a very grave person, 
and I could not understand why she looked 
so merry and laughed when I mentioned 
Albret. 

“ No, no, little Jacquiline,” she said. “Al- 
bret will then be about his training for knight- 
hood.” 

I was sorry for this, but it could not long 
cloud my joy. Was not Albret to conquer 
the English, and then return to wed me ? 

I fell asleep and dreamed that 1 was in a 
long procession bearing the train of a Queen, 


228 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


and her Majesty wore a gown of white tissue 
wrought in forget-me-nots, and that every- 
where voices were saying : — 

Souviegne vous de moy. Souviegne vous 
de moy.’’ 


CHAPTER XIII 


THE END 

O N the morrow I sat for the last time at 
the feet of Tante Marianne. 

She glanced at my embroidery, and 
cautioned me to do somewhat each day at my 
home. 

“ Thy mother can direct thee, for she doth 
know somewhat of the art.'' 

I gave my promise, and then did Tante 
Marianne relate to me the end of the story of 
the Little Queen. She began most briskly. 

‘‘We set sail, my child, from that same 
Dover to which we had come seven years be- 
fore with Richard and the lords, but alas ! 
there was no King with us now. There was 
no pretty babe, only a tall, grave maiden in 
long robes of black, but so sweet, so lovely 
was her face that none of us could keep back 
our tears when gazing upon its beauty. 


229 


230 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


Our escort was Sir Thomas Percy, the lord 
who had attended the Queen as chamberlain 
when she had married the King at Calais. As 
he led her to the ship the tears did wet his 
cheeks of bronze. In his heart, they say, he 
was ever loyal to the King. Perchance he re- 
membered the happy child he had seen cling- 
ing to the hand of our gallant lord Richard. 

“ ' Tis all so sad, Jacquiline, that Michelle 
indeed spoke true when she declared that Isa- 
bella of Valois was born to woe. 

‘‘We sailed to Senlingham, and there landed. 

“ ‘ France ! France ! beautiful France ! ' 
cried Simonette, first with smiles, then with 
tears. That ever was our cousin Simonette. 

“ ’Twas on the twenty-sixth day of July, in 
the year 1402, that Sir Thomas Percy took 
little Isabella of Valois by the arm and deliv- 
ered her into the care of the Count St. Pol. 
At the moment of parting she wept right pite- 
ously. She was a child of steadfast heart. The 
ladies of England loved her, and she loved 
them. For her there was never light parting 
at any time. With tears streaming down her 
cheeks, she commanded me to bring her casket. 


THE END 


231 


In it were the few jewels which that thief of a 
Lancaster had left her. One by one did she 
take them from the box. She divided them, 
and bestowed one upon each lady, giving at 
the same time her hand to be kissed. 

‘‘ When the moment came to part from the 
fair Eleanor of Holland, the Queen forgot her 
state. She clung to her cousin, and wept again 
like a child. 

“We were sorry, Simonette and I — the 
ladies of England had ever treated us kindly 
— but right glad were we to again feel the air, 
see the people of our own dear land. 

“ The sky of France did welcome us with its 
blueness, the flowers opened their cups, the 
birds sang right joyously. Everywhere we 
beheld the mignonette, the poppies, the fleur- 
de-lys. There were forget-me-nots also. ‘ Sou- 
viegne vous de moy ' they seemed ever to say. 
We remembered Calais and the splendor of the 
kings ; we saw the cruel face of Bolingbroke, 
its narrow cheeks, its small, mean eyes ; and, 
alas, did we also behold the gentle face of the 
Little Queen’s dear lord, as meekly he rode 
toward the Tower. 


232 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


“ ‘ Souviegne vous de moy/ ‘ Remember 
me/ — and as I gazed upon the little blue 
flowers so fraught with recollections, the 
thought came that there is One who also re- 
members, and with him left I the judgment 
of Henry of Lancaster.” 

I did not entirely understand my aunt. I 
was glad then, when, with a change of voice, 
she again took up the story. 

She related how gayly came the ladies of 
France to meet the Princess, and of how in 
contrast to their liveliness stood the ladies of 
England, each moment growing more dolorous. 

“Presently, Jacquiline,” she said, “there 
arrived the two uncles of Isabella, the Duke 
of Burgundy and the Duke of Bourbon. 

“ ‘ Adieu, adieu, fair ladies, once more adieu,’ 
and with many tears did Isabella part from the 
ladies of England. 

“ I think, my child, that her heart was ever 
with England, because ’twas the land of her 
dear lord, and where she passed the years of 
her childhood.” 

I wondered at this. Certainly it would not 
be possible for me to love a country which so 


THE END 


233 


mistreated Albret, and, moreover, robbed me 
of my jewels, and shut me up in castles. I 
kept these thoughts in my mind. Xante 
Marianne, to my thinking, had her own soft- 
ness for England, talk as she would. 

‘‘And so back came we to Paris, Jacquiline, 
and our wanderings were over.” 

“ But, my aunt,” I cried, “ what happened 
to the Little Queen ? 1 would know it all.” 

Then did Xante Marianne tell me how sore 
they pressed little Isabella to wed her cousin, 
son of the Duke of Orleans. 

“Right bitterly wept she, Jacquiline,” said 
my aunt. “ She told them over and over that 
her heart was Richard’s, that she believed him 
yet alive. 

“‘No, no, my child,’ urged Madame the 
Queen, ‘ the King of England is dead. Did 
not the lord of Bolingbroke desire you for his 
son ? Would he have so desired if Richard 
yet lived ? ’ 

“ Then did Isabella shed fresh tears. 

“ ‘ First,’ she cried, ‘ ye would wed me to 
one old enough to be my father, and now do 
ye desire to wed me to one years younger than 


234 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


myself, to a boy — me who have been the wife 
of a man and a king/ 

“ She never forgot Richard and had her own 
way about her marriage until she reached her 
eighteenth year. Her cousin was then fifteen. 
Without her consent her betrothal took place. 
During the ceremony she wept most bitterly. 
But those tears were to turn into joy. At the 
age of twenty she of her own will wed her 
cousin whom she had grown to love. His 
nature was entirely noble, and it was not long 
before my dear mistress loved him entirely.” 

I breathed a sigh of relief. I was rejoiced 
at some comfort for the little Isabella. But 
my gladness was useless. 

“Her life was not long,” said Tantc Mari- 
anne. 

My heart sank. I had hoped that she 
would now be happy. 

' “ She was twenty-one, little Jacquiline, when, 
with my own hands, I closed her sweet eyes. 
That night, with tears streaming down my 
cheeks, I hushed the cries of her dear little 
daughter. ’Tis she, Jacquiline, who has done 
me the service which takes you to Court. As 


THE END 


235 


for Isabella’s husband, Jacquiline, he was taken 
prisoner at the battle of Agincourt. For eigh- 
teen long years did he languish a prisoner in 
that gloomy old Tower in London town. 
Now do you know, Jacquiline, of the two men 
who loved little Isabella, and both suffered in 
the Tower where she had laughed as a child. 

The Duke of Orleans, little one, within 
those gloomy walls, did compose poems most 
beautiful — there is none other in France like 
to them. In the beginning were his verses 
born of his love for the Queen. 

“ In one poem he doth call her : — 

“ ‘ my lovely princess 
Who was my comfort, my life, 

My good, my pleasure, my riches.’ ” 

Tante Marianne laid her hands together 
upon the work in her lap. In her eyes was 
that look she wore the day when I did present 
my bouquet, the look of one who gazed far 
into the past. 

“ He was most noble, my dear lord of 
Orleans,” she said. Shall I repeat to thee, 
little Jacquiline, somewhat that he wrote of 


236 THE LITTLE QUEEN 

my child, for such doth the heart of thy old 
aunt ever call the Little Queen ? ” 

Tante Marianne half closed her eyes. 

“ He wrote it, poor lad, shut in that gloomy 
Towers where once had laughed the Little 
Queen, and wherein poor Richard had agreed 
to deliver up his crown. 

Of my little Isabella wrote her lord : — 

“ ‘ I make my lady’s obsequies 
My love a minster wrought 
And, in the chantry, service there 
Was sung by doleful thought. 

The tapers were of burning sighs 
That life and odor gave ; 

And grief, illumined by tears, 

Irradiated her grave ; 

And round about, in quaintest guise, 

Was carved, — “ Within this tomb there lies 
The fairest thing to mortal eyes.” 

“ ‘ About her lieth spread a tomb 
Of gold and sapphires blue ; 

The gold doth show her blessedness. 

The sapphires mark her true ; 

For blessedness and truth in her 
Were livelily portray’d 


THE END 


237 


When gracious God, with both his hands 
Her wondrous beauty made, 

She was, to speak without disguise. 

The fairest thing to mortal eyes. 

‘‘ ‘ No more, no more ; my heart doth faint. 
When I the life recall 
Of her who lived so free from taint 
So virtuous deem’d by all ; 

Who in herself was so complete, 

I think that she was ta’en 
By God to deck his Paradise, 

And with his saints to reign ; 

For well she doth become the skies. 

Whom, while on earth, each one did prize 
The fairest thing to mortal eyes.’ ” 

Even while Tante Marianne repeated her 
last words there was a sound of some one 
arriving at the house door. 

I heard a voice. 

‘‘ Father, father ! ” and I rushed from the 
room. In a moment I was held fast in his 
arms. In the joy of the meeting the sad end- 
ing of the story was well-nigh forgotten. 

‘‘ Thy brothers plucked for thee a bouquet,” 
and my father handed me a bunch of much 
withered flowers. It looked as if boys had 


238 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


arranged it. The stems were cut very short 
and were bound most tightly together. 

Yes, my little dog was well, my garden was 
flourishing. As for my mother she longed to 
embrace me, and Angeliquc had cut a new tooth. 

While my father and Tante Marianne 
talked together, and my father heard the 
great news of my going one day to Court, 
I began to pull apart the flowers. Much 
did it hurt me to see how tightly were they 
bound about the stems. Presently Tante 
Marianne and my father departed from the 
room. I untied the bouquet and laid the 
flowers one by one on the bench. 

“Good morrow, Jacquiline!” cried a voice. 

It was Albret, the page. 

He was red in the face as if he had been 
running, and he wore his fine raiment of 
velvet. 

“I may be punished, Jacquiline,’’ he said, 
in quick gasps ; “ I had no permission to come 
hither, but much did I long to say farewell 
and to make thee a little present.” 

He spoke hastily and pressed into my hand 
a pretty gold buckle set about with stones. 


THE END 


239 


“Take it, Jacquiline/* he said; “my mother 
gave it to me when I departed from home. 
With it canst thou fasten thy girdle. I do 
not need it. Keep it, I pray thee.'’ 

’Twas most beautiful. I thanked Albret 
over and over. I knew that he had worn 
it on his cap ; it had held there his feather. 

“Adieu, Jacquiline, adieu,” he cried, “I 
must make haste. I may be punished.” 

I stepped to the bench whereon lay my 
flowers. 

“ I have no buckle to give thee, Albret,” I 
said ; “ but here.” 

I handed him a spray of forget-me-nots. 
I felt very much like the Little Queen parting 
from King Richard. 

“Take them, Albret,” I said, “they are 
from my garden.” 

Then I threw back my head and said very 
grandly : — 

“ ‘ Souviegne vous de moy,’ Albret, remem- 
ber me.” 

Then did I stretch forth my hand to be 
kissed. 

I heard a laugh. I beheld Albret’s face 


240 


THE LITTLE QUEEN 


grow most crimson. In the doorway stood 
Tante Marianne, and beside her. my father. 
Again saw I the look of merriment in the 
eyes of my aunt. As for my father he was 
laughing openly. I thought it most unfeeling. 
Was I not parting from Albret for many long 
years ? 

My father at once addressed me. I won- 
dered that he used the same words as had my 
aunt upon the day before. 

‘‘ Jacquiline,'’ he said, pray thee ‘ sou- 
viegne vous de moy ' — remember me^ 

On the morrow my father and I left Paris, 
and my visit to my great aunt Marianne 
became a thing of my past. 




SEP.>16,f903 





V . ,...<• ;v‘ 




7*. 


'Ti .^ 


'i%,, 


“/Ss: 

!>• ' ''r-'u'. V' 

\Z ^ V 


"•tT' ’ 






.. sj •/'L4^^wTifv*?%i 

V.' .: *5 


A'l 




-r ‘>*T V •7»'‘|J|,',*v 


-- Jgliy 

>:.• lly. 

' •»< 'oK 4 \M., V 'n ''f 

'-*»* ^ftl If? V* ‘Wl^K ' k «..i’ 

'■■«**'' ' .• Z' . 

1 M| *^ _ T .1 I • i ’ > '•ir 'i 

IP's^a' 






y. 


► • 


1 




w 


V'* 


< I 



■ ^ ' «n» * ' 1 '. • ’ * . ^ ' 

; .' . ■ .frX , 

‘ • *> . . 0 . 0 


I ' 


-H 


* • i 




^ rty^i 

■ V- • ■# . :■'■■ 

’ 4^ ' » 



•/>V 


■':* “ er- '<5 ■ 

p-k' _a 4 ^i*; ♦ 

V, . •' ' 


V" 


r 


ifi 


• V 


* S * ^ * 




f. * • 





« • • 


^•4^1 

^ ’ » <' -I ■ . I* 

f -Iw. ‘ •• . • * . 


' ,v^': r 


V ■ V ‘'' K ** j ' .) > 




• \ 4 


V 


- 

’ijjOT. *' ./iv'/ '■* ' '' \ 

^upp^; . ■' 

jI'^- * ^■- ,' ■ ‘V > » 

V ' 50 

k/y iijf .’ ' * 

»'7 i."*’ ^V 


• I 


r K 



mis 


V 


^ f* 

■' - ,/v '■’■'*/ 

' ’ i’k.^ ‘*f:> ’/ 

Ai.' "rij • .* • •*' 


I L « 

' f * . ♦ » 

' ' :tK. * 


< % 


•r/ 




» . 


;4i 




», * 




It .t^- ■■ ft 



•1 1 


.3 


L • 


iA 


, * 


• ■ V '* , , ,' . • • 

i. ’ ♦/'I >■’'•* ■« 




4 > 


T '*• ,•'/ • ^ ■ f 


\H. 






I . y 




'S,*' 


* '* 


tf 


4i‘> 


■ i 


V . 



y^-T.r* 

•*. >' tl 


.irf. 






I •’ 


' -m V" 


t i 


'/ 

'^ir , 

1 

^ 1 
fcZ! 

• 1 

S' 

- ■ ^ 

1 

1 • 

1 

'•>« 


i. 




I ■ 




y 


' ‘ % 




’ -oi ^ 

‘ v'J 


* ft 

- -fj- 


•k k 


}M 


I I 


■m .. 


• '. 


.■Y‘ 




' :■ . j-"j '■ , .V^' - . 

’, ' .vjirj 





'i. 




n '■ 

V , . 





.^_ 


.n^. 




• III ,1 


■'<h 






. ’ *' 

’■ ■ • r . 


^ . 









rJ, '■ ! ' .• 




l/ i? V 


mi 


, I 


♦ ••■ i. 




• i ■ V» 


aV 





4f 

I k 

<J ■/ 


‘-'iM 


_*£.'■ ^r. ':r^h ‘1 . '■ .w*? ■. 

,:'S«::i: ■■“fe’pi 

■'.»«( * '^ ■ #>j 




4 >* 

Lr 


\r* I-' ‘'iS' i ' 1 ^. v:';,;, f 

* . ■ • Vivo" 


k » 


' # 




•XI 






W' '0 


h;j-., 


j 


Mt y' .•' 


. '■’ '<T''|' ...I'.', vyd^s'v, • ":->’f?^*'''‘: -yV ’ 

■i-mi y -A. 


• • . 


' ^ . , \T -J ,• ■ >• . '. 


c. 





' 






rtfA- 


I ^ ’• 


y$ 


./ 


> . 


1 ■ r fc ’ y*" ■■ ' • 1 (1 ^ ' ' I ■ 'A •. 

^ j|M' V :'S; ■■■ A:4fc . %!i»' ' ^ 


r>i 


#•* 

11 


£ 


• “r 


-k 


‘> *• 

f. s 


1 • 


.1 


• r. 


"••r'o 

r 

V ' ' 








» ft 


1 '?0 




m 


1 ^. Vj 






■ 


' I 


-rfi 


t , L 




I •! 


M 


f t 


/•«A»| 


.f 




" ♦ 


‘A 


<1 


a , m 

, ', - 7 . '' '^•‘ 


m I 


1 « 


^ * V. ' 


•K 


>* 


.r 




y a 


/» 


iS i^v 






1 4 


J 

i' 






r '■• 






' .1 vj{i 




l! ) 




• k « 




• f . V 




L* / . . *. 

”•3 'lA 


y < 


f 




. 1 1 


■*’ AR£l . I • i M 


..V 


• '.iV 






1\ ','. 




/.*r‘ 


i* vU 

,«• i. ’ 






ii 


^4 


. 'i' 


V t 


I J. 


k '. 


V 


r 


ii 


v : 




L» • 


.n A 


il!' 




■r*. 


n ...Vi. 


/v 




Ik*. 


X. 


>>•?» ■' '0 ,o 

|V«^» 1^, . f 

'■^v ’vfd™ 


r » 




vj 


t n#' 


W. 


.v:‘:;i'ii ' VsV 


!•« 


ff 


I If) S 

fW 


% 


tv 


• h 







ubrary of congress 


00054ti3oi?? 


